Grow up, Gisborne
by BertieWooster21
Summary: Completed story! This is a pre-series fiction, focusing on Guy's past. ie his relationship with the Sheriff, how he was moulded to become thus & all the missing stuff with Marian, Annie, Lambert, the Nightwatchman. Warning it's an M rated & a tragedy!
1. Chapter 1

Hullo, just one thing. This is my first ever story, so be kind. If you want to read about Guy, you've come to the right place!

This will detail his life, pre the TV programme right up till then, so this giant saga of mine will just end sort of after the plot of the King… and then naturally the story continued is the programme. So, the ultimate ending is in the writer's hands. Er… let's hope they don't stick with the traditional legend i.e. beheading Guy; as his following life shows it's not very nice and yeah he deserves a happy ending. Enjoy, I'll shut up now!!

P.s. Reviews are good : )

"Grow up, Gisborne"

Chapter 1

On the 19th November 1159 a baby boy was born to the hopeful couple, Elfrieda and Harold of Gisborne. The newlyweds had only just inherited the small estate upon Harold's father's death. The couple were deeply in love and it had not taken long for Elfrieda to become pregnant.

Bathing in the afterglow of the birth and looking down upon the tiny baby in her arms all the parental love in the world filled them up, they could envisage nothing but joy and happiness lighting the way for their newborn son.

The local woman who had helped with the delivery looked up and smiled, "He'll grow up to be a fine one that I'll warrant my lady" and she smoothed the baby's black hair so that it would lie flat before leaving the new family to bask in their contentment.

"We'll call him 'Guy'; after my father, if that meets with your approval, my dear?" Harold mocked. Elfrieda looked up and offered him an indulgent smile before looking down again at her son.

"Guy," she said out loud to herself as if finalizing it. The name suited him, she thought. Harold was proud of his father's heritage and wanted his son to know it to and be proud. For indeed the name was meant to be an honour.

Harold's father Guy was the first to have been given the estate. He had been knighted by King Henry after distinguishing himself in first Crusade. Harold's father, very talented with the sword had single-handedly protected the King's life once the city's walls had been breached, ruthlessly killing the cities fiercest warriors to save him.

As a consequence, in the spring of 1117 Guy was finally set free from his obligations to the Earl of Norwich, and at only twenty-three he had released himself from his feudal overlord. He became a knight, with only one overlord, who was twenty miles away and only required a portion of tax each year. It was hard to believe at first that he was being given a small estate, which had lain deserted for seventeen years, and to adjust to being called 'milord'! Guy thought that he would be destined to bow and scrape to his master; a hard upbringing in the Norwich Castle, as page boy, had taught him not to dream.

However, since the old noble the previous owner, had died and no heir had assumed control it was free to be handed down to some deserving young buck. It was rumoured that the previous master had one surviving daughter, but she had left and never returned. In the seventeen years which the estate had been unsupervised the serfs had grown lazy and fat.

At first the surfs were loath to do the bidding of, as they saw it, a young interloper and what's more, a commoner with no drop of noble blood in his veins. In comparison, the previous master had been granted the estate in recognition for helping to secure the great victory for the Norman King William in the great conquest of 1066.

In the early days Guy caused much resentment as he was young and re-focused them on their duties, which was no easy task. Though eventually the fear turned to respect, and the serfs were treated as well as could be expected, and were able to do the young master's bidding with pride as he was imbued an inner nobility of spirit.

Harold knew that this respect had been hard won and he had grown up learning to adopt a lofty air when addressing the peasants to maintain the distinction. He knew he would raise his son to be like him in that respect, and teach him be worthy of the knightly class. However, little did Harold know that unruly serfs would be the least of his son's problems. The fate of the boy as heir presumptive was already being questioned merely twenty miles away…

In Nottingham Castle:

No matter, he thought, he could still have a future. On the night of this sixteenth birthday Robert was plotting. He was very intelligent; a Machiavellian, just like his mother. Mother! He thought and quickly damned her name, if only she had got the man to say a couple of vows in the presence of a priest before manipulating him into sex; Wouldn't have been a bloody bastard then.

His father was a weak willed man lacking any passion, ironically, as he had been conceived in a fit of passion by his parents. Robert was particularly interested in researching his father's mother's side of the family - he was sure there was money in it. And though his mother was no common prostitute but mistress to Edmund Sheriff of Nottingham… He lived in a degree of quality and had the title of Strathclyde, but it was only that; a title, meaningless. It had only been awarded through his mother's talents and by the Sheriff's fear that he might be his own illegitimate son.

It was a place where morals were few and far between. But Robert was determined to have money and position and he know that through his father's mother's side he was related to one who fought with the conquering Norman army alongside King William. Robert was connected with victory and nobility and he reckoned he should ruddy well have a piece of it for himself.

Robert picked up his glass and studied himself. He knew he was handsome, with chiselled features and high check bones a pale complexion topped off with tousled light brown hair. He also had all of his white teeth from childhood, which was rare. He'd sucked in his checks and perfected that look of haughtiness to enhance his beauty. He knew that beautiful people deserved success and he was beautiful and also cunning. Therefore, his future must be equally bright.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Guy grew up happily around the surrounding countryside of the Gisborne estate. A little too far from Nottingham for regular family trips but Harold preferred the isolation of their home. It was their haven from the world. Unfortunately though village life was bereft of other noble children for Guy to play with, but on the plus side he was the restrictions that came with them.

Besides, the family were more comfortable with the wealthy tradesmen and gentry families with whom they had more in common. Harold knew of the frigid etiquette observed in Nottingham with its flourishing titled population. He felt it better not to stifle his family for the sake these of connections. He know from experience that any small slip up within such company would result in scorn and ridicule, and he did not want his son to realize too soon that to these traditionalists all he would ever be was a common ranker.

It was different with the mercantile class, they were wholesome and were people with whom the family could easily mix with, and they did. Thus it was that Guy first boyhood friend became to be Joseph Lambert, the blacksmith's son. They did everything together; playing in the fields, riding, albeit on the back of Guy's pony and doted on each other. But when together they could also be excessively mischievous.

The cook was a tubby, balding man with an excessively red and blotchy complexion owning to his partiality to strong fermented ale. As usual on a Sunday afternoon, especially in summer, he had passed out due to this indulgence and was slumped in a chair, snoring heavily. The boys creped up stifling laughter.

As was their custom they each took it in turns to test the cook's reactions; Making grotesque faces and sticking their tongues out inches from his face and dancing around him, then running back to safety at any sign of movement from the un-conscious man.

Guy was very much the leader of these schemes but they both found their games highly invigorating as it gave them a sense of danger; they knew all hell would break loose it he caught them.

When Guy picked up a stray white feather and started to tease it around the cook's upper lip and underneath his chin the cook began making low guttural moans and twitching his neck. This made the boys clap their hands over their mouths to stop themselves from laughing.

"Boys!" suddenly a voice of disapproval called out.

Joseph fell backwards onto his bottom in sheer fright. Guy dropped the feather and jumped rigidly to attention. It was his mother.

She had a fixed look in her eye and Guy sensed he was going to be told off. Elfrieda was standing in the doorway framed by sunlight and she looked magnificent, but in reality she was trying hard not to laugh herself.

It was the same when she knew that they had snuck out at night to go cow tipping; she didn't want to bring them to account next morning. As children it was their right and privilege, and she remembered that it always spoiled the fun when her mother chided her and her brothers for doing the same, so she feigned ignorance.

Guy and Joseph ran to her side immediately after recovering from fright. They were afraid that her call had roused the cook and they didn't want to be found in his vicinity. Elfrieda noted the look of innocent horror on their faces and she felt a surge of love ripple through her body, though she schooled her face not to betray her grin. She began walking down the passageway back into the main house whilst the boys half jogged to keep up with her. Guy braced himself for the inevitable scold. It did not come, instead she said,

"Come along your father and I have something special for you!" Elfrieda smiled though it was a sad one. Today marked and important milestone in her young son's life – the first step towards manhood; Guy was to be unboyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Guy was presented with a dagger; it was the preliminary step to acquiring a sword, usually at the age of thirteen. It was a foot long with a simple silver hilt which had Celtic engravings. With the simple process done Guy was on his was out of childhood. Sword practice with his father would be the next thing to happen.

Soon after this his mother was pregnant. Guy wasn't sure how he felt about it as he was used to having his parents to himself. However, when the time came childbirth put a stop to those concerns, the baby was large and had be cut out, it was highly risky and it was therefore a tragedy when Elfrieda died and soon afterwards and for Harold to have to find out that it was all in vain - the baby was still born.

Grief descended to the household and lingered like fog in the valleys. Five days later Elfrieda still lay solemnly on her bed, like an angel in death. Harold could not let her go and rarely left her side and Guy too grieved piteously. She was special and they'd never appreciated how so until it was too late. She was his mother. After three days the crying stopped though a melancholy lingered within in him. Though because Guy was a child still he had in his mind grieved for the equivalent of months, he had to move on.

However, his father could not move on so quickly, and Harold's behaviour was disturbing the whole household. He would tear himself apart during the day weeping over his dead wife and by night he dream of her and awaking the whole house by shouting aloud in his visions of her. He spurned meals and company. Guy kept downstairs away from the trauma and tried to think about other things.

The servants were talking about the usual things: how could check on the master. The fear was that if Harold continued in this type of grief he might turn to suicide. The funeral and burial need to be arranged; Elfrieda's body could not be left untouched for many more days. Downstairs Guy was carving out a horse with his knife and so the sound of approaching horsemen was heeded by no one.

Galloping at break neck speed Robert, accompanied by a retinue of guards, was advancing on the village. Huzzah and hurrah! he thought – the small estate had been reasonably easy to find and he was about to reclaim what was rightfully his. He was chuffed. The dreams of landownership were coming true and what's more it was legal; his request had been sent to King Henry and he was only too please to confirm him property, seeing as he was the descendant of a loyal knight and whose great-grandfather had fought alongside his own grandfather, William of Normandy.

Edmund Sheriff of Nottingham had seconded Robert's claim so now he had the deeds complete to the Gisborne estate, with his own recently discovered arms of nobility, _and_ the signatures of the Sheriff and the King! How sweet success was he thought, and cantered up to the house with his six men, all borrowed from Nottingham town's garrison.

Robert almost hoped the ex-lord would put up a fight; so he could use force. He would be completely within his rights to kill the pretender. Now he dismounted and pounded on the front door.

When no response was forthcoming he violently hammered again. Robert was in no mood to wait, it was his house; he would not be left to wait outside. He was going to display his power in order to take over seamlessly, getting rid of the occupants now in one go, and then he wouldn't have any obstacles. The peasants would see his justice and fall into place under their new master without any hiccups.

Harold came down the stairs puffy eyed to open the door ill prepared for a fight; he did not have a weapon. Immediately Robert's guards seized him ridiculously easily and once he was in their grip there was no escape. Harold struggled but Robert motioned to some four of the guards to take him outside a distance from the house.

Guy who was watching from behind a large oaken dresser saw his father being dragged off and he was stunned. It looked as if the events had been thought out, Guy was bewildered. Then Robert addressed the servants and everything became abundantly clear.

"Your previous master was an interloper - he lived off the wealth that was not rightfully his. He will suffer for his treason. You will transfer your loyalty to me the rightful Lord of Gisborne or you will die; your choice. Decide now."

The four guards who had escorted Harold away were nowhere to be seen, the other two had gone upstairs. With only one man to get past the cook evidently mistook now to be his chance to run and get help. He charged Robert pushing him out of the doorway and running as fast as he could. Robert prepared for resistance of this kind extracted an axe from his belt and flung it right between the cook's shoulder blades. The weapon struck right on target and the cook was brought down not a hundred yards from the doorstep.

Robert walked up to the cook who was on the ground.

"I don't suppose I would have enjoy your cooking much anyway," he said cruelly before removing the axe from the man's injured back and heaving it over his head to behead him.

It was an honour really, the man was obviously of low calibre and by rights he should have been hung. But he didn't have time for a hanging; anyway the head of the cook could be placed on pike to show the peasants, what happened if you were disloyal.

Guy was sickened and terrified by what he had just witnessed. Before the cook had made his bold attempt he was thinking of revealing himself. He couldn't stand by and watch his home be taken.

He ran round to the side door and peered round the side of the house in time to see the axe being slung downwards. It was a clean strike and the cook's head came off in a pool of cascading blood. Strangely at the same time the man's murder picked the head up a demented high-pitched scream came from nearby.

It was unsettling. Guy wondered who it could be, the cook's head? He couldn't possibly make the noise. He was a head detached from his body. A loud crashing noise directed his attention back to the house. It was the two guards from upstairs throwing bedding and their possessions out of the upstairs window.

Events were running out of control. His mother, he thought wildly, but how could she be making the noise? Robert called up to the guards who were now in the process of throwing papers out of the windows.

"Is anyone upstairs?" he asked.

"No one alive, sir. This woman's been dead of ages," and the guard hitched the body of a dark haired woman over the windowsill so his master could see.

"Pity," Robert said simply.

Guy was revolted he had to stop them, he didn't want them touching his mother, but the high pitched screaming had started again and this time the man the guards called 'sir' was walking towards it. He realized belatedly that it had to be his father. No time to stop the guards upstairs, his mother was dead but his father need his help and so he ran past Robert to where the four guards were.

Guy flung himself on the back of the first man and started kicking and biting at him. He was doing reasonably well and had the chance to pull out his knife. He jabbed it between the man's ribs and the guard let out a howl of pain.

Robert by now had arrived on the scene and the other guards had realized their companions problem and turned round to help. Once all five had entered the foray it was easy to overpower the boy.

The man Guy had wounded spat on the ground there was no blood, it was not a fatal wound, it would heal, and he would live.

Unlike the man on the floor behind him who even with the diversion had not even attempted to escape, simply because his hands and feet had been cut off. The guards had ripped Harold apart piece by piece and Guy now confronted with his father was appalled. Though frighteningly _he_ was the one in danger now; real danger of being murdered, and what make it worse was that he knew his fathers mutilation would be the template for his own death.

"Who are you?" Robert demanded, annoyed that he had been outwitted by a child. Everything had been going like clockwork before this incident.

"He's the man's son!" guessed one of the guards.

"No!" Guy said hoping his denial was convincing; if it wasn't he would be killed and he was bloody petrified of dying like that. He was sure they wouldn't have any qualms about killing a child.

What had his father done? He had existed.

"Who are you, but not his son?" Robert asked clearly desirous of a good explanation.

"A bastard!" Guy said, he had to say this, it was a question of survival.

Robert hissed, now he had found his legacy and birthright he could afford to look down on bastards just like everyone else did.

"Are you going to challenge me?" Robert asked menacingly.

"No!" Guy shouted. He was being held tightly by two guards and desperately wanted to escape their clutches.

"Good," Robert said sweetly. "Now get out!"

They were outside but Guy didn't point that out; he understood perfectly. He glanced at his father for the last time covered in blood but still alive and he ran like he'd never done before. He just heard the stab of a sword into what sounded like an abdomen, and tried not to think about what that meant.


	4. Chapter 4

+Copywrite: I made up the word, it is 100 mine, use if you want only credit me!! 'Noffy': this shortened word incorporates the meaning and connotations of the slang word 'toff' and in the common describes a well-to-do person who is both upper-class and a little bit mad in the head!

+definition taken from my own personal dictionary of made up words : ) (I've used the word in the chapter.)

Chapter 4

Guy trudged the carriage ploughed road to Nottingham, which was twenty miles away from his now former home. He'd had been walking for seven hours and was fatigued. The light was fading and Guy was still another three hours away from Nottingham. It was becoming apparent that he would not make it before nightfall, thus the gate would be shut. He would have to sleep wherever he could.

Up above the sky was bright red; crimson melting into orange. It was beautifully dramatic but at this moment it only reflected his anger, reminding him of the spilt blood. Red sky at night, Guy thought dully, twas a shepherd's delight. Though for him the drama of the heavens gave him no delight and he was left untouched by its beauty.

Oh God, he half prayed half exclaimed, stay with me, and don't leave me utterly alone. And so Guy trudged onwards, the faces of his parents shimmering before his eyes, tears filling up his eyes.

However, he was not the only person travelling along the road to Nottingham.

………….

Within in a carriage travelling along the same road was a young Lord. He had strawberry blond hair which was fashionably brushed backwards. He was wearing a red velvet cloak and grey fur mantle draped around his shoulders to block out any hint of cold. The curtains on his carriage were not drawn as the light had only just begun fading, and he liked to glaze out of the window whilst he travelled.

He felt the carriage slowing at the adjustment in pace awoke him from his reverie. They were making good time on the road and he didn't want to be late for dinner. His stomach would wait for no man and it was therefore with much irritation when the carriage continued to gradually slow to a trot. He peevishly shouted up at the driver.

"Why are we slowing!?"

"There's a boy on the road, my Lord," the driver called out.

"Knock him down then!" our noffy traveller ordered. Goodness he wasn't going wait for a boy who was inconsiderate enough to walk in the middle of the road to move. The driver on the other hand didn't really want to knock the boy down, but he was under orders.

He slowed the horses with a restraining hand on the long reins and the team of four clipped into a trot. The driver still hesitant to hurt said boy who he was under orders to knock down, he thus slowed the carriage as much as possible to hurt him less. Only a person deep in thought could be this oblivious to an approaching carriage.

Granted the road was damp and the sound of hooves was dampened but the carriage itself was fairly noisy. As they got closer the boy still hadn't jumped out of the way.

The first pair missed the boy by inches and trotted past the side of him. The driver now was worried that he'd failed in his duty; he could be punished for disobedience.

As the first pair of horses brushed past, Guy snapped back to his senses. Dawning realization came too late as the second pair trotted past him. Then, at once, something very solid slammed into Guy's back. The momentum shoved Guy forward and he was sent flying out of the road tumbling into the ditch.

The force of the impact was felt likewise by the occupant inside the carriage. His driver knew what was good for him, evidently, and he smiled. The collision had slowed the carriage a lot and the blond haired noble inside decided it was worth stopping briefly to survey the damage, and to question the boy who had so rudely delayed him.

On the other side of the road arising from a ditch, dizzied by the throw and still in pain Guy was accosted by the owner of the vehicle.

"You, what were you doing walking in the middle of the road like that?"

"Sorry, Sir," Guy replied tersely.

He was peeved that after being hurt he was now expected to have a conversation, when evidently at least half the blame, he thought, rested with this man for purposefully driving into him.

The apology had not appeased the young Lord. In fact it had only infuriated him more. 'Sir', 'Sir'? Did he look like a humble 'Sir'? He fully leaned out of the carriage window. He was offended. Did not his carriage, clothing and noble features speak of wealth and rank? Surely 'My Lord' would have been used just in case or as a mark of respect…

He looked at the boy properly, thinking about it he wasn't the usual peasant fodder that he usually milled down on the road. He wasn't badly attired, well exempting the mud that now covered them. He inquired in case the boy happened to be anyone; he was slightly worried he may have knocked down someone who could do something about it.

"What's your name?" the carriage owner asked earnestly.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne, Sir"

He had a title then. Gisborne…? He'd never heard of it, probably some small village with little better than a merchant governing the peasants. No fear from that quarter then. Vaizey snorted in derision and damn that degrotary greeting again!

"Drive on," he said, ending the interview, and his carriage picked up speed gradually and disappeared out of view, leaving Guy to his thoughts once more.

After the encounter with the carriage Guy sourly walked on for another hour. He was still a mile away from Nottingham and decided to take shelter for the night. A gap in a hedge looked the best place as it offered cover from the elements. He wrapped the long grass and plants over himself and tried to rest.

The fate of his parents and the loss of his home plagued his mind; he couldn't help picturing the look on his father's face, the head of the cook, and his mother dangling from the window. Guy sobbed, and besides these images was a fear for himself. What was to become of him? Truly it was the end of his life as he knew it.

…………..

Hello Readers! I hope you're enjoying my story. I'm sure you are a person with thoughts and opinions. What are they? Will you tell me them? Lol, that it is the question! Make my day and review…. P.s your feedback will make me update sooner… (that's not bribery….surely!!)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As he approached the great West gate to the city Guy made an attempt to make himself presentable by straightening his clothes and smoothing his hair flat. Though there was nothing he could do to remove the travel stains or to dry his clothes. He wiped his eyes and nose to remove any traces of his tears and approached the imposing castle.

It was the largest building he had ever seen and never before had he felt so small as he reached the high outer walls. It was awfully grand but the hundreds of people going about their business at the market seemed friendly and that was slightly comforting. From the mouths of the people at the market the main news of the day seemed to be the birth of a daughter to the Sheriff. Guy hoped the good mood this had put the Sheriff in would grace him with fortune.

Honestly, as he left home, going to Nottingham seemed like the only available option, or the first thing that entered his head. Other things had occupied his mind when he set off and this journey seemed about the only thing he could do.

Though he had no real notion of what he was going to do there when he got there. Apply to the Sheriff. That was the extent of the plan. He supposed he was relying on the hope that the Sheriff would take kindly towards him and support him in some capacity. He was cold and wet and just wanted someone to take him and cradle him like his mother would have done.

Guy walked up the steps to the castle when the Sheriff appeared at the top of them. He recognised the man from his father's description of him and the man's features and robes told him that he was a man of importance. Guy haltingly walked up the steps to meet his suzerain half way.

"My Lord, I," he began and stuttered unsure of what to say.

"I…I," the incoherence continued and was irritating Sir Edward.

Who as Sheriff was anxious to greet his arriving guests – the nobles were gathering today in Nottingham from the surrounding counties. It was only the second of these conferences that Edward had chaired since his appointment as Sheriff nine months ago and he was keen to show his guests his capabilities.

"What do you want?" Edward said hurriedly to the boy.

"My parent's…" he didn't continue on this topic, it was too painful and hard to talk about, especially in front of an impatient audience. Sir Edward got the gist anyway.

Guy tried again, "I…" he attempted, but he couldn't think of anything to say, it was so debilitating to be utterly lost for words at this moment when he desperately needed to explain his predicament in order to get help.

Edward was embarrassed by the whole performance, not that he thought Guy was acting, but he had other place to be and this seemed to be a delicate situation one with was being horribly drawn out by the child's incapability to express himself.

Guh! Edward thought the boy looked a complete state; he didn't really want to give him welcome into the Castle. So, Edward, finding it too dashed awkward began to walk down the steps. Only coming abreast of Guy did the boy speak again.

"Please!"

Sir Edward stopped in his tracks, he had no choice; there was no arguing with desperation. The boy obviously had no where else to turn to, and he wasn't heartless enough to turn him away. Fine, he thought resignedly,

"Take him down to the kitchens. Then bring him up to our meeting at eleven thirty." Edward said to a nearby sergeant.

Guy had frozen and before he could thank him the Sheriff he was walking down the steps to attend to other matters. He was brushed off down some passages and through large stately rooms before reaching the kitchens. Would he be living here now? Guy had so many questions, but at the sight of the bread and stew they vanished.

As promised at eleven thirty a guard came to fetch him. Neither spoke a word to each other nor did Guy want to ask where he was going. As it turned out he was ushered into the Great Hall. Sir Edward beckoned him to stand by his side. The Council of Nobles were having a break; servants were pouring wine and sweet meats were being offered.

Then the Sheriff announced to his visitors.

"My Lord's, quickly, before we return to business. Do any of you require a page?" He gestured at the boy.

Guy was flabbergasted, was he to be pawned of to a foreign Lord? He hadn't been asked if he was willing but the answer was, apparently so. The nobles looked up slowly and Guy felt twenty pairs of eyes bore into him.

"I will take ten silver pennies," Edward said. No offers seemed forthcoming and there was a long period of contemplation. Guy sighed in relief, though a twinge of pride made him reconsider – did no one want him?

"Done," said a clear voice from Guy's left. He looked over at the face of a man with curiously bright eyes and rough blond hair with whom he had spoken to yesterday from the carriage.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

They were at last alone together. Guy walked boldly up to his new master's side – he was scared but was taught by his father to keep his head up high and not to show his weakness. Vaizey looked his page up and down, for that was what he had bought him for.

The boy was about 4'11 small, but he looked as if he would be tall when he was older. Vaizey disliked children as a rule, but this boy had and aurora of melancholy, which made him more interesting.

The boys that were usually sent as pages were small and bashful. This boy had his head up and was staring back as boldly as he was. That was not to be tolerated. However, he sensed he could use this boy. Vaizey swiped his hand across his new page's face, hard enough to leave a large red hand print.

"Eyes down," Vaizey said clearly enjoying his new unbridled power over the boy.

"Boy, what is your name?" He knew his name from their earlier encounter on the roadside, but he asked again to assert his superiority and to set up his line of questioning.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne, my Lord." Ha! Vaizey thought. Violence did work! 'My Lord' this time! He continued,

"and why aren't you at home playing with your dollies?"

"My parents are dead, my Lord," Guy uttered soullessly.

"Excellent," Vaizey said glibly and clasped his hands together.

"and your lands?" the Earl asked greedily.

"They were taken," Guy said with his eyes averted.

"and I suppose your keen for revenge…?" the Vaizey guessed. In response Guy's hands clenched into fists. He coveted the idea of revenging himself on his family's destroyer.

"Yes," he whispered. The silent anger emanating from the boy was palpable. Vaizey was amused and inwardly congratulated himself on acquiring a boy that could be used and moulded so easily.

"Better and better," he muttered aloud. Vaizey flung his cloak over the arm rest of the nearby chair and flung himself on it in a perfect negligence and lounged extending his legs.

"Come now then and swear fealty to your Lord." Guy knew he was already the man's page but this rite cemented the truth and it was done to give the illusion of freedom as he 'voluntarily' sweared his loyalty away; though, in truth, a boy's loyalty could be bought, as had been today.

Guy kneeled taking the proffered hand and intoned,

"I do swear undying loyalty and obedience to my Lord…" he paused before the Earl supplied the name.

"Vaizey," he said smugly.

"Vaizey, Earl of Leicester," Guy repeated. "and I swear to serve and follow him so help me God."

Vaizey smiled broadly down at him and Guy quickly kissed his hand before his Lord abruptly rose and strode out towards the door. Though he did turn before leaving to say,

"I think we shall get on very well. I'll acquaint you with your duties when we get back to Belvoir."

Vaizey exited and bounced jauntily down the corridor grinning. Guy was left standing in the room in partial shock. That man and he were now linked – what was his life going to be like now? His instincts told him to be afraid. However, he now had a situation that had to be positive. The future was unclear, although one thing was clear; it would be taking place at Belvoir Castle and he would be page to this man, the Earl of Leicester.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When he arrived at Belvoir Castle Guy was shepherded into a small courtyard with a well and was instructed to wash. Then he was given his uniform. It was a dark coloured tunic which came to his knees and black woollen leggings.

Already Guy was realizing that Belvoir would not be a 'happy home'. There was no happy welcome as he arrived, as there would have been at home, not that he expected one here. More than anything he wished he could go back home, back to Nottingham even, and start again. Guy didn't like being is such an unfamiliar place.

Then a middle aged woman came out of the rooms looking out onto the courtyard. She looked very much like a nurse used to mothering and disciplining children. She came out to scold him for making such a mess with all the water.

In fairness, Guy now made the effort to tidy the area, putting the bucket and soap away, and scuffing the water down a drain with his foot. But the woman was unsatisfied and came forward to shoo him out of her way.

"What kind of servant are you going to be? You can't even clear away some water!" she despaired.

She flashed a careworn smile at him to show she wasn't entirely serious and pushed him into the outhouse. It was a shock for Guy, he'd never previously had to worry about cleaning – at home there were four servants – who did the cooking, cleaning, serving and general housekeeping.

How much more would have to be done to cater for Belvoir Castle and the Earl. Guy was daunted. Would he be able to learn fast enough? It was going to be hard to adjust to his new position in society; from now on he would have to work to earn his keep.

……………..

Directly Guy was send to the Earl's private rooms in the Castle and he was welcomed in a suspiciously friendly way by his master. Guy stopped in front of his desk and the Earl smiled at him.

He was not invited to sit down, but neither was he told not to. Guy decided to sit on the stool which was conveniently placed opposite the desk.

"My dear you are yet to understand the way of things. Stand up," Vaizey ordered in what was meant to be a reasonable tone.

Guy gingerly got to his feet. The Sheriff had intentionally placed the stool there in order to test him. Now he could launch into his cautionary speech, the one which he intended to give his page after he'd presumed to sit without consent.

"Come now don't be stupid, your life in my service depends upon your understanding of what I am about to say to you," the Sheriff paused to take in a deep breath, so he could lecture for the next ten minutes.

"The father is the head of the family, I presume you know that? In much the same way I am the head, the lifeblood of Leicester. I make decisions and my word is law, you understand? Every man, woman and child looks at me for guidance." He quickly added as an aside, "and the power of life and death over them blah di blah di blah."

"The people make up the 'body'. As the 'head' I can tell the 'body' what to do. The people give up their freedom to gain my protection and care. I have authority over them; in fact it is for their own good. There would be anarchy……Anarchy!" he said exaggerating the repeated word, impressing a horror onto they young boy's mind. "…If I wasn't in control."

Vaizey continued, "because the peasants need me; the 'head' to tell them what to do. Thus there is order." Vaizey closed his eyes the idea of 'order' gave him bliss.

"You!" the Earl said sharply snapping back into the moment and gesturing at Guy with a pointed figure.

"You think that just because you're new I won't go hard on you? Hmm? When you defy me, you are sowing the seeds of rebellion. You are presuming to question my authority. Well, I'm not a religious man; but surely to question me is to sin. The 'body' cannot rise up against the 'head', but it is the 'head's' right, duty, in fact to restrain, punish, the 'body' if _it_ strays…" Vaizey's voice dropped to a whisper.

Guy didn't understand half of what had been said. If this was key to his survival here how could he survive when he didn't understand the rules? A panic set in. Suddenly breaking the silence Vaizey was inches from his face annunciating each syllable with menace.

"I will not tolerate insubordination!" To Guy this was mental torture, either his Lord was insane or he was. He dropped to his knees with the intention of begging for mercy. He was apologizing before he knew it.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. It won't happen again," he pleaded looking up into his master's face for any sign that all was forgiven.

Guy wasn't sure why he was doing this but after the speech he knew something was expected of him; an act of humility seemed about the only thing to do.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Guy curled up into a tight ball on the floor as if to block out the horror and realization of what his new life would be like. What his master was like. He bit down on his clothing to stifle and silence his cries as he was above the stables in the croft. The world, it was becoming obvious, was a very hard place.

He fell asleep up in the croft in the pathetic position, whereupon the cock crowed next morning Guy was no longer alone. The Sheriff's squire was there.

"You're to come and serve breakfast now," he said curtly.

The squire was fourteen years old and tall for his age. He remarked his counterpart with scorn; he was so young and pitiful and this was only after one day with Vaizey.

Egbert in his maturity thought that he could have never been like that. His days as page were long gone, (he had been squire all of one day), though he did appreciate how the boy must be feeling and offered a hand to help the boy up.

"You don't have to sleep here you know," he said.

"The great hall is where we sleep. Either on the tables or on the floor - there are straw pallets' so it's not bad. I'm Egbert by the way."

"Guy," he responded and he was cheered as he followed along to the kitchens; one person wasn't indifferent to his welfare.

……………….

As page Guy was expected to serve breakfast every morning. His other duties included preparing his masters horse if he wished to travel, bringing refreshments within the day to the Sheriff and his guests in the Great Hall, and obeying Vaizey's whims as and when they occurred. He was not expected to serve the evening meal – that was his squire, Egbert's privilege.

Up until six o'clock every day Guy's main occupation was to stand behind his master's chair in the Great Hall waiting. He waited for one o'clock as he was allowed a fifteen minute break. After that he waited for six o'clock to come and relieve him.

The Sheriff could interrupt his waiting at anytime with some task for him to do such as pouring wine, kindling the fire, lighting candles or waiting on his guests. All the business took place in the Great Hall and there was always some discussion or orders to listen to.

Guy stood and heard all Leicester petitions, demands, pleas and charters day in day out just like the Sheriff. He absorbed the important information as an invisible spectator. In this way he soon discovered how his master conducted business, meted out justice and what matters were going on in Leicester.

However, the major disadvantage of being the page, was not the sore feet but that, he had to deflate the tension in tiresome meetings. Vaizey usually when disgruntled with his meetings would become aware of his idleness and make him stand on one leg, or perform meaningless tasks for his own enjoyment.

The frustration of the endless petitions would end up being extracted in a cathartic punishment on him. On one such occasion Vaizey was in conversation with local tradesmen. Carpenters, tanners, jewellers, and friars were present. All these men had the most lucrative businesses in the county; the friars sold relics and prayer, (usually for relatives who wanted prayers said on behalf of some dearly departed).

The scheme was to raise more tax on these items. The men were discussing the feasibility of reducing the wholesale price so that the tax yield could be increased without the loss of money to the merchants. It was complex and required lots of corresponding and agreements and the formulating of explanations to give both customers and wholesalers.

They had been talking for over three hours and Vaizey was becoming dangerously tired of the tedious talk. He needed a release and found one. The Sheriff whipped around and ordered.

"Collect our guest's goblets at once!" Guy stepped forward carefully, not wanting to draw attention to himself, he sensed the Sheriff was quietly seething.

"Left hand behind your back!" the Sheriff snapped.

Guy knew the rules, it was not meant to be fair, he was being set up to fail but he wasn't going to yield to suffering wantonly. He was going to try.

Thus, obediently he set about adeptly clamping all seven goblets under his arm. With his tentative one armed grip he began to hobble away. Guy was in the middle of mentally giving a sigh of relief when the Sheriff called.

"And mine!"

Guy knew his downfall, but all he could do was to embrace the inevitable, and so he walked slowly up to the Sheriff's table. His goblet was in the centre of his wide oak desk. There would have been a small chance of success if it were on the edge closest to him; he could nudge it on top of the other goblets with his chin – But the Sheriff made no move to assist and now stared at his page with his cruel unblinking eyes waiting for the moment when he could spring out of his chair and start pounding him.

Guy tried and failed. All the goblets, most still retaining plenty of red wine came crashing to the ground. At the same time soaking Guy with the red wine. The sound of the clattering was magnified by the silence in the room; all eyes were fixed upon him. As expected the Sheriff abruptly jumped off his chair.

He delivered three very sharp whips with his ridding crop at him. Guy looked up for an instant, but only saw a blurry shape and heard the whistle of the whip again as was aimed, and then connected, with the back of his neck. It was blindingly painful.

"Clean that up" his master said severely as if it was his fault the room came to be spoilt. Stooping for the goblets Guy heard the Sheriff addressing his guests once more at ease, "Now Gentleman…"

Honour it seemed had been satisfied. Guy skulked off and out of the Great Hall.

……………..

After Egbert's suggestion Guy did go to sleep in the Great hall on a straw pallet with all the other people who weren't granted private rooms. However, it didn't last long. Since the week past the Sheriff had been complaining of an illness. Guy was forced to relocate his pallet to the foot of his master's grand four-poster bed and sleep there; in case his master should need anything in the night.

That night Guy lay down on his pallet at the foot of the bed and cautiously drifted of to sleep. He didn't like the idea of being so vulnerable and off guard around his master especially in so intimate a place. Sleep, also seemed like an offence, something he shouldn't be doing.

Guy only hoped he would be able to wake up quickly enough if he was needed. Vaizey wasn't very ill, it was just a head cold; even so it did not stop his chatter or his habitual sleepwalking or his ability to tell him off.

Guy fear ironically proved unnecessary, a vicious kick in his back saw that he woke suddenly. Violently awoken and rubbing the source of pain it was apparent that the Sheriff had been sleepwalking and had consequently tripped over him.

It was pitch black and Guy could feel the pain already bruising but nevertheless aided by a shaft of moonlight he stumbled out of his bed to where the Sheriff was propped against the far wall, now awake but evidently shaken. Guy rushed to help him to regain his balance and then guided him back to bed.

"You could have killed me!" the Sheriff remonstrated. There was no venom behind the comment, he was still rattled by the sudden fall and Guy thought that was fair.

"Run and get some hot water," Vaizey said; he had it in his mind to soak his aching feet.

"And light some candles will you?" the master added.

He was fully awake and so was the boy, evidently, and he thought he might as well stay up and indulge his wearied nerves by having his page run about for him. It would be a shame not to put him to good use; he was staying in his room for this reason while he was unwell.

"There's no hot water, my Lord," Guy said politely.

It was a big ask to fetch more water, light a fire and boil water in the middle of the night. To the boy's credit came he did come back with a candleholder with eight lighted tapers, thus bringing light into the room.

"You'll have to do then," said the Sheriff. Guy was confused.

"Massage my feet," he ordered.

Vaizey was now lying back on his bed propped up with pillows and covered up in his blankets and furs but his feet wriggling expectantly from beneath. Guy had never been asked to this before. He hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the grand bed, sitting on it as little as possible and delicately picked up his master's right foot and positioned it on his lap so he could massage it.

The Sheriff mewed noises of appreciation as he rhythmically worked his hands silkily up and down the sole of his foot, swirling his thumbs in circular movements over the joints.

He'd been at it for ten minutes and Guy was getting tired not to mention freezing cold, he wondered when he'd be allowed to stop. Then Vaizey announced,

"And the other one."

He looked down at his page and took him in. To Vaizey he was not a handsome boy but neither what he would call 'ugly'. He had a large nose and a wide forehead and a jutting chin. His black hair was unkempt and lank, and his brow was dark and forbidding for one so young; his whole appearance was that of a scruffy crow.

His clothes which were black, only served to complete the look, though the clothes were not his choice Vaizey could hardly imagine him wearing anything else without looking out of place in it. All the black contrasted with his sallow white complexion and gave the small boy a haunted melancholy look.

The foot massage he was giving on the other hand was skilful and entirely satisfying, unlike his appearance. The Sheriff's body melted with the touch and his body entered one of pure sensation. The only thing was that Guy was spoiling the atmosphere. Every few seconds a series of shivers racked the boy.

His back was hunched over and his shoulders were grinding in their sockets to power his hands, seeming to generate the only futile amount of body heat that served to keep him going. If he didn't know better Vaizey would think that Guy was doing this deliberately in order for him to pity him. He'd had enough of the massage and said seriously,

"Get a blanket if you're cold!" Guy practically jumped off the bed. He was stone cold and grabbed one and tightly wrapped the blanket around him.

"Bring me some wine," Vaizey said in a bored voice.

It was the middle of the night, no time for power games; it was a time for straight dealing. Once the cup was poured Vaizey drank as much that was acceptably convincing, and then handed the cup back to Guy.

"Finish this. Then get back to bed."

It was a nice gesture. Vaizey felt responsible. The boy couldn't do anything without his permission after all, and he didn't want him to die of a chill, that would be a waste of money. It would be back to _normal services_ in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to Kimmeth (my brilliant reviewer : ) I will clarify; Vaizey is the Earl and Sheriff of Leicester. Soz if I didn't make that v clear before.

Comments, Q's & reviews most welcome… how about it ye silent masses?!

Chapter 9

Despite everything Guy wanted his master's approval.

Vaizey had forced him to swear loyalty and thereafter demanded his life purpose be to serve him. And though it wasn't his choice, it was his life's purpose, and therefore, Guy's ultimate aim in life was to please Vaizey and hopefully win his affection, to even hope for love was too much. Affection was too much to ask for most of the time.

Guy knew the Sheriff only kept him for his own ends – he was here to be used. However, despite being treated like dirt the Sheriff was his whole world, and his life's aim was to avoid making mistakes so that he wouldn't be insulted, and therefore liked more.

The problem was Guy still believed in the idea of a 'fair world'; (The idea that if you did your duty and tried your best life wouldn't be so hard). Needless to say Vaizey did not subscribe to the philosophy.

His master attended church but rarely, and when he did, he tried to snatch forty winks. He said that it was a better use of his time rather than listening to the priest.

Guy's Christian ethics were bounded to be dashed but he clung onto them – he needed to have hope, and his morals gave him a reassuring set of principles, which if followed, could make things better.

………………..

They sat in Church or rather Leicester Cathedral today as today was special... The Sheriff had graced it with his presence.

Guy gazed up at the chorister's behind the altar wishing he could be one of them. To him they lived in splendour; they practically lived in the Cathedral, which to Guy _was_ heaven. It was magnificent; full of beauty and grandeur.

He was also mightily impressed by their voices which were pure and heavenly sweet. He'd heard that the priest were lax in some areas and did not treat their young charges as they should, but even so, Guy was envious.

Not only did they spend their lives in the Cathedral, singing, but they had the companionship of each other. He was sure a few wayward priests couldn't be worse than what he had to put up with Vaizey.

He wished Sir Edward had fobbed him off to serve the Church instead of as page to the Earl of Leicester.

As the choir lead the congregation in song. Guy tumbled through the words awkwardly; his northern accent made it hard for him to form the words as beautifully as they should be. The chorister's perfect phrasing soothed his soul and assured him of the presence of God;

Laudate, Laudate Dominum, Omnes gentes,

Laudate Dominum, Exultate Jubilate,

Per anos Domini Omnes gentes!

They sang, and then the choir gave the verses on their own in French;

Au nom du Christ nous répandrons la graine,

partageant toute la nouvelle vie avec tout ceux dans besoin.

La grace pour nos coeurs est récompense de salvations,

au nom du Christ Jésus.

'I wish I could be one of them' Guy though. Though unfortunately in seemed he had said it aloud. The Sheriff looked down at him and scoffed,

"They wouldn't take a common ranker like you! Stupid boy!"

Needled again, Guy went back to admiring the chorister's from a distance. His master evidently did not want him to dream of escape.

However, what the Sheriff did not know was that Guy did have a means of escape, in form of the motherly figure of Matilde. Guy went to her small house after Church merely to be in her company.

She was a brusque woman always upfront in her speaking, and a widower, after her husband Jack the Butcher had died of a fever. She always fussed over whoever came to visit her and forced them to eat and take home parcels of food. Generosity was in her nature.

To Guy she became a lifeline, she would always make time for him and treat him well. Matilde was also very superstitious, like most people, she would crush eggshells so that witches could not use them as boats, and threw spilt salt over the right shoulder to ward of evil spirits. Unsurprisingly Guy inherited the superstitions from her.

On the threshold of her small house Matilde forced him into a bone crushing hug.

"Owh come in my lovely!" Matilde welcomed happily, and bade him sit down.

Guy sat down at the kitchen table but Matilde would not have it, and insisted he take his comfort on the chair nearest the blazing hearth.

Guy smiled and moved to placate her wishes, though no denying it, he enjoyed the attention she gave him.

"What can I get for you? Now I know I have some mutton leftover. It'll be cold but I can give you that with vegetables, and of course there's bread and cheese. And let me see…" She bustled about in the larder, which was always well stocked.

Her kindness disposed her to lodge weary travellers and feed her neighbours in hard times. Otherwise, she lived alone, and it gave her happiness to share the modicum of wealth left by her husband with others. Matilde had other talents, as many old women possessed of healings and child delivery. She would help whoever came to her.

Now Guy, she had met on the very day he had come into Leicester. But it was a year later that she had found him wandering around the city, at such an advanced hour for a boy of ten, that she called him to her door.

Upon discovering the delicacies of his position, as page to Leicester and without family, she felt he was bound to be in need of kindness. Since that day Guy had come whenever he could to see her, and as the years passed Matilde felt more and more of him as her adopted son.

Still, the depth of their relationship did not silence the comments. She knew that the boy was teased, mildly, but even so, because he came to her house. If the Castle formally knew of their meetings it would appear improper.

What could one of the Castle's servants be doing in such a house, and so frequently, as if he was running away from something? It would send out the wrong signals. A distance had to be maintained between the Castle garrison and the townspeople.

The Castle's authority would be diminished if there was too much familiarity.

Matilde hoped that gossip hadn't travelled that far, because she would never forbid Guy to visit her. As the scornful folk said, he was her 'charity case' and as harsh as that was the sentiment remained, he was and remained someone in need of charity.

"I have fruit cake," Matilde shouted back from the larder. "You love that."

He did love her cake and more than the warmth of the fire warmed through his small body.

After he'd eaten his fill of cake Guy told her of his week. He left out particular details but sketched the main events honestly. Of late she was becoming an essential person to confide in.

She tried to convince him, and privately herself, that things would improve. Matilde was wise enough to note what he did not say, and guessed that he had to put up with more than he ever talked about.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "You have to be strong," Matilde said.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I have used the word 'twot' deliberately. It's just funny and 'twat' sounds too modern!

Chapter 10

Now thirteen years old and still Vaizey's page Guy had toughened up considerably. That's what almost four years had done. But today was his thirteenth birthday and he selfishly wanted to have the day for himself – he understood his feudal ties but didn't want, as he felt lately, for his personality and soul to be absorbed as Vaizey's property.

He was influenced hugely by his master and on the eve of his birthday Guy didn't want to be moulded, but be an individual. Tomorrow he would make his request, which he thought, in his bolder moments wasn't too much – one day off…

He wouldn't be missed for one day, or so he thought. It was a high risk scheme, either he would be allowed a day of happiness to enjoy his birthday, or it could turn out to be the hardest day of his life; handing the very weapons with which the Sheriff could beat him with.

It all depended on the Sheriff, and his mood, and he was unpredictable at the best of times. But, if Guy thought about it in any detail, he decided that the consequences of asking had to be better than not trying at all.

To accept that his birthday was meaningless and to accept that if it didn't happen to fall on a Sunday that he would have to work, was too degrading.

Also, if the Sheriff knew it was his birthday (while that was near impossible because his master didn't remember things about insignificant people), if he did, then he would be taunted beyond belief for not asking.

The only option to avoid all taunting was to ask for the day off and hope that the Sheriff was in a good enough mood to grant his wish.

The next morning Guy got up early in order to serve breakfast to the Sheriff, with any luck he would be away from the castle in less than an hour, off to spend the day with Matilde. Consequently, he was slightly shaking with nerves as he walked towards the room hoping that the questioning would be short.

Guy entered humbly with his head bowed carrying the tray of food, and set it down on the table in the Sheriff's private quarters. The Sheriff did not eat with the masses of the Castle in the morning; he said once a day was enough and he liked his privacy in the mornings.

"Guy," the Sheriff said sardonically as he walked into the room connected with his bedroom. Judging from the tone of voice his voice Guy's confidence dropped tenfold, but he pushed himself to ask anyway.

Last Sunday in Church the sermon was on Moses, the Old Testament Prophet who had led the Israelites out of bondage from their Egyptian masters. His heart had filled with hope when he heard the story. It was his faith in happy ending which spurned him on to ask for today to be his.

Guy cut to the chase.

"My Lord, may I have the day off?"

Vaizey who had just sipped his mug of ale chocked. Vaizey couldn't be more shocked if the table had said the same. It was sheer madness. His voice was hoarse when he said,

"Er, What?! …What do you need the day off for?!" he said still too taken aback to be cross.

"It's my birthday," Guy explained.

This was not going well Guy thought. Never give someone startling news when they are drinking, he scolded himself. He'd buggered it. The Sheriff came back to his senses with frightening speed,

"You may have the day off… When I'm DEAD! …Oh I'm sorry I forget myself '_Congratulations_' it's your birthday; well, '_well done!'_ you've gone another year without dying!" the Sheriff said sarcastically.

Guy winced. He could not take back his words and he was sure the Sheriff's irritation would not abate soon, and he would probably needle him to death for it now. The Sheriff's rant continued.

"You Dare presume that _your_ birthday is more important than serving _me_, your master?!" Guy didn't respond and to be fair it was a rhetorical question but the Sheriff wanted a reaction. He came forward grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and shouted,

"Answer me!" but the Sheriff went on regardless of the lack an 'answer'.

"I think you need to be reminded of your place," Vaizey said silkily with a disturbing change in approach, and he slowly removed his small fruit knife and walked to stand behind Guy. If only Guy could have seen the Sheriff's eyes at this point they were merciless, and at once the cold metal of the knife was at his throat.

"I'm the master you're the servant, Remember that! … and Guy… now that twot Egbert is off to Canterbury to train for the Church, you're my squire."

Guy was given a quick clip around the ears for good measure then he was sent down to the Great Hall to polish, what he knew would be an endless amount of silverware, as punishment.

Was promotion a punishment though? Only time would tell.

…

Please Review!


	11. Chapter 11

AN: I have to mention Georgette Heyer's 'Regency Buck' as I couldn't have written the second scene of this chapter half so well without her inspiration.

Chapter 11

Now that Guy was a squire he was given a new uniform. It was simply a jacket and trousers with a working coat for outdoor use made entirely of black leather. Guy wondered why the tanners had been given this much patronage. But put it on regardless.

The first time he walked into the Sheriff's presence in this new garb, instantly, there was a change in the atmosphere. The Sheriff's eyes raked all over him, lingering on his body. He'd never been looked at like that and he felt sick. He was sure it was wrong.

Guy had yet to feel the necessity of the opposite sex and he was almost fifteen. He had little comprehension of lust or desire and to be on the receiving end of lecherous eyes of none other than his own master, who was over twenty years his senior, made him extremely uncomfortable to say the least.

Their relationship had eased into one that was almost of father and son. Although it was a twisted one with no love or real affection, in fact one with an extreme indifference to each others pain. However, there was a strong bond and was definitely becoming unhealthy.

Thus, Guy grew up, not forgetting his early childhood with his parents, but very much leaving it behind mentally. He rarely dwelled on the past, although at first he did and could not help it. Guy soon learned not to. In comparing the happy life before with the one he had now achieved nothing and caused unnecessary anguish.

After these some five years in Vaizey's service his 'life before' seemed an eternity ago. Guy was sure that his past remained within him to some extent; his character and opinions had been shaped by those experiences and in this way, to Vaizey, he was not fully under his wing.

However, Guy he knew he was beginning as Vaizey wanted: to let go of his 'foolish hopes and dreams of ever returning to Gisborne'. He knew things would never go back to the way they were.

But on the plus side, he had led a very provincial life in Gisborne, being connected to the Earl the likelihood of actual power was much more probable, especially when joined to an Earl like Vaizey, who was power crazed to the point of near obsession, especially with the idea of becoming Sheriff of Nottingham. The lust to one day dictate over the larger more populated near by county was constantly in his mind.

The world was opening up to Guy, or at least to the Earl of Leicester, and in turn as he was frequently reminded, benefited him. Letting go of the idea that someone was magically going to arrive unexpectedly and take him home was hard to accept and with the acceptance came with it the death of his childish optimism. Guy stopped thinking about religion so much.

……………….

One day in March the Sheriff thought he was ready. Vaizey wanted a return on his investment – so he arranged for his Master of Arm's, Godfrey, to take Guy out twice a week to practice sword fighting and combat.

He had told Godfrey of his strategy and warned him not to go easy on the boy as it would be counterproductive. Godfrey, a simple man of few words understood the Sheriff and agreed on this matter, he in fact, would have been honoured to have received such training when he was young.

It was similar to bear baiting. The idea was to insight an opponent in order to get them to fight with purpose, aggression and real necessity. Although, in reality, it meant a lot of pain for the one receiving the training.

It was all part of the Sheriff's plan to toughen him up and get him used to real combat. In an actual fight anything to gain the upper hand was allowed, and so instead of having a formal lesson; Guy's lessons were timetabled fights to the deaths, as it were.

There had been a few close shaves; the whole point of this type of training was to encourage aggression and the ability to fight better out of necessity and danger. Therefore, Guy had to raise his abilities very quickly in order to not sustain serious injuries each week.

Guy very quickly improved, and the Sheriff informed by Godfrey of his improvement came to watch his progress. Today was such a day. The fight, as usual, was taking place in the main private courtyard, where on the less fortunate days peasants were hung from the scaffold.

For about a minute the two sparred cautiously. Then Godfrey made play to the left and right testing the boy's reactions. They were merely flourishing and warming up. A brisk rally followed. Godfrey put in a blow to the throat and Guy fell.

He got up and setting at the Master of Arms immediately another brisk rally followed. Godfrey skilfully lunged using a stab of his wooden sword at Guy's leg as a decoy to put in a good right punch to his face. So, Guy drew the first blood at the mouth. But he recovered his wits and returned to the fight like lightning.

Some quick fighting followed at half arm. All parries were blocked. To any observer their fight might have looked like a vicious Morris dancing practice. The loud wooden clatters made the similarity possible.

To break the deadlock Godfrey aimed a potent kick a Guy's shin and it struck home. Guy grimaced in pain and after a fierce struggle Godfrey aided by his superior weight threw Guy across buttock, slamming him into contact with the floor.

Godfrey it appeared was getting the best of it. He had tremendous brute strength and a marked ferocity. But Guy was generally quicker and his youth would come into importance later in the fight.

Guy doubled in pain as a thrust of Godfrey's wooden sword plunged into his stomach. He pushed Godfrey away when he approached to finish him off. Godfrey stuttered backwards but kept his legs and rushed in again.

For one and a half minutes there was some quick fierce fighting and Godfrey aiming at Guy's head drew more blood. By this stage both Godfrey and Guy's chests were heaving with the exertion and sweat was pouring off them. Godfrey must win, the small audience that had gathered to watch reckoned, he had the all the success so far and looked very strong. Guy on the other hand felt he could mill the man yet.

Godfrey's hits to the face hurt but had not beaten him, it was the body blows that truly finished a man off. Both rallied enthusiastically but Godfrey was now slowing. Guy was able to swing his sword at his ankles. The hit fully on target made Godfrey fall to a sitting position and he was becoming distressed; Guy was if possible more energetic.

He hit Godfrey in his weakened position to maintain his advantage. Then wildly lunged again but this time Godfrey was ready for the attack and evaded it.

Godfrey deflected a couple more blows but came down immediately by a terrific blow to the neck. Godfrey stubbornly got to his feet. He had his arm out to balance himself and ward off an attack. He was still very determined to beat Guy. He could sense the Sheriff watching them and he wanted to prove himself worthy of his position. However, the latest blow had shaken him up and when he struck out the thrusts were too short.

Guy mirrored him waiting for Godfrey to attack so he could exploit some mistake and end the fight. However, Godfrey charged in and planted some straight blows and some sweet hits on Guy's torso before stepping sensibly back.

The man's exhaustion was working against him and was eager to create the final 'killer' blow. Godfrey lunged with his full weight behind the sword. It was ill judged. Guy saw it coming and leaped out of the way. The momentum of his lunge carried Godfrey forward and past Guy until he collided with the floor stupidly.

Guy quickly turned got Godfrey into a headlock and sent a series of sharp punches to his face to finish the contest. Godfrey went down like a log – his jaw was evidently broke as it flopped to one side but he was still conscious.

Guy panted he was out of breath, exhausted and aching from the fight. But he sighed in relied that it was all over. Guy could now relax and tend to his injuries in his room. Though, it appeared he had thought too soon.

Godfrey, still lying on his back, was resentful that he'd lost against the boy and in view of his employer. He wanted to bring the boy down so he couldn't too be cocky in their next meeting. Godfrey stretched his leg out deliberately to trip him. Guy had let his guard down and was slowly moving towards the steps.

He collided with the outstretched leg and fell flat on the floor violently smashing his forehead on the bottom step. From the top of the steps Guy heard a snort of laughter where he knew the Sheriff and a few nobles had gathered to watch for entertainment.

It was maddening! He had won fairly and had been brought without honour to the amusement of the crowd. Guy was really angry. The blood from his forehead was gushing down his face. Anger like he had never experienced before pulsed through his body.

He straddled Godfrey and picked up one of the discarded wooden swords, drawing it over his head. It was in that spilt second before he brought the blade down he knew he was going to run the blade into Godfrey's face, killing him. The Sheriff shouted out seriously,

"Finish him."

The encouragement awoke Guy to his senses, he was about to pre-empt Vaizey order and kill Godfrey anyway. He jumped up as if struck by lightning. As he'd seen himself defence could soon turn into attack. He would not kill a man, and instead battered and bruised Guy limped over to the stables to find solace.

He stood in the sweet smelling stables with the horses. He didn't have any reason to be here right now, but when he did, it was one of the few duties he didn't mind attending to. The horses were intelligent and gentle they gave him peace to be near them.

Guy combed out the bay's mane and brushed down her coat. He rested his head against the bay's neck and let his mind wonder. Then a female voice called out in his direction…

…

Please Review!


	12. Chapter 12

Story rated M. A reminder. There's a lot here Enjoy!

Chapter 12

"Hullo there!" a female voice articulated.

There was no one else around to answer her summons. So Guy stepped forward, only to be transfixed.

She wanted a horse made ready as soon as possible. Though Guy only just about registered this request. Her appearance was a vision of feminine beauty and he was enraptured. Heaven _must_ be missing an angel. His eyes fixed on her beautiful shapely figure which could be seen, though heavily cloaked and wearing a highly embroidered dress. He could not but admire her, and her perfect golden straw coloured hair.

Guy stood immobile for a few more seconds before turning back to do what she desired. He quickly set a saddle upon on slender chestnut horse and was just adjusting the girth when it must be the Lady's groom appeared to relieve him of his duty. The groom taking charge of the horse led it into the courtyard to his mistress and helped her alight, gaining the credit and the thanks.

Guy let out a long sigh as she rode away. He wanted her and it was impossible. Perhaps the only chance to speak to her, merely a few moments ago, had passed by. She was unattainable in more than just the obvious way.

For some time after this Guy ardently loved and was fascinated by the Lady Augusta, for he soon discovered that was her name. She was seventeen years old to Guy's recently acquired sixteen.

She had come to stay Belvoir until her father, who was away, returned. To Guy it seemed she was always in company, therefore he could never approach her. But unbeknownst to him she did feel his presence, or had a particularly strong feeling that someone was staring at her.

Lady Augusta didn't like the idea of 'being watched' or care to be stalked especially not by the young leather lad boy seemed to stare right through her clothes. And so the months passed. Augusta settled into her life at the Castle fairly well, and Guy grew up nursing his obsession with her from a distance.

……………………

Now as the Sheriff's squire one of Guy's regular duties was to dispatch messages. One day the Sheriff ordered him to go to Woodsthrope, a nearby village, to collect a late payment of tax. There was nothing remarkable in that.

However, the Sheriff had done it deliberately with a mind to dispatching Guy on his duty that would keep him away from the City all day. The Sheriff considered his position. He could punish him, but on reflection Vaizey decided that _this_ was a matter best to be dealt with quietly.

The problem was that a little matter had come to his attention. It appeared that Guy had been sulking off to spend time with an 'undesirable'. Namely a woman, and a poor one, and secretly - without telling him. Who else knew? What did people think? 'She' had a name but it was distasteful to animate inanimate objects; peasant women were certainly of this order.

_She_ had to be dispossessed of and without fuss. Gisborne would be spared the sight of it. He would not have Guy openly confront his crime. Dark deeds that were done must be dealt with darkly, he reasoned. It would be better too if Guy could quietly accept his verdict and then the problem could be ignored.

………………………….

It was tiresome duty and once in Woodsthrope Guy didn't know quite how to address the villagers. He wasn't sure of his authority. The subtle art of diplomacy seemed to have escaped him, and he left the village with a pocket full of excuses.

"Oh Gizzy your back! Do you have the tax money for me?" the Sheriff boomed enthusiastically.

"No, my Lord. The villagers said it would take another month to raise the extra money."

"Extra? What extra? Is it not my duty as Sheriff to set the tax?" the Sheriff mock-seriously declared with half a mind on keeping Guy's attention fixedly away from what was happening in the courtyard below his rooms. Crowds didn't just gather without purpose…

"If they think it will always remain the same they are mistaken. We will have to remind them that the taxes go directly to the King to fund the Holy Crusades. They should be more prudent with their money, can't have them spending it all. We must teach them to save money in case of emergency situations, like this one. Eh?"

The Sheriff didn't receive an answer. Vaizey continued, and at the same time grabbing Guy's arm to pull him into stride so they could walk along the corridor and away.

"Come on Gisborne, you mustn't take 'no' for answer; you're too soft. We will go back and persuade them of the necessity of our taxes."

Within five minutes Guy found himself ridding out again to Woodsthrope with the Sheriff and oddly riding out from the back gate. Vaizey thought it best to exit from the quieter side of the City and to keep Guy out of the City until the dusk; the evidence had to be cleared away, and this was a good opportunity to take him on a tour around the villages surrounding Leicester.

Today was as good a day as any the Sheriff reckoned to 'set him lose'. His training with Godfrey had progressed so far that the Master of Arms had to be dismissed, due his bitterness that was caused when he was defeated. Guy improved more and more, and now he only sparred with those who were stupid enough to accept his challenge.

Guy had to listen as the Sheriff lectured and threatened each community by performing a slightly different off-the-cuff speech at each village. Then followed the requisitions and the beatings. The Sheriff wanted him to take more of an active role, but despite the front Guy put on he wasn't very comfortable. The Sheriff had to prompt him to put his training into practice, to push so and so, to kick such and such.

Guy did so, though it was begrudgingly or when the Sheriff's threats to slap him into next week rang true.

……………………

Finally, back in Leicester Guy went straight to Matilde's parlour. It had been a very tiring day and he could be sure of sympathy, and no doubt some fruit cake from her. However, upon entering the small house she was not there nor could he imagine where she would be.

Her granddaughter was upstairs alone, weeping into her sewing. It looked serious, and Guy was just about to slip away, but she heard the floorboard creak, and forced him to stay with her.

"Don't go. It's horrible isn't it," she said chocked between sobs, "now what will become of me?" She began crying uncontrollably again. Half of what she'd said had been unintelligible.

Guy was feeling awkward - she was breaking down in front of him and he didn't know why. He half heartedly said,

"It'll be alright," with forced cheerfulness.

She picked up on his ignorance and said harshly,

"What? me all alone, and she's gone forever. Don't you care at all?"

That caught his attention. Her desperation startled him and Guy had heard her clearly this time.

"Who's dead?" he asked but he already sensed the answer.

"Didn't you know? In the square – today..." her eyes were shining and she painfully paused unwilling to say the name.

"Matilde"

Guy felt like he had just swallowed a brick.

He discovered from the people milling around the town that she had been hung at midday for witchcraft. Though he was sure there was something more to it than that. He had the suspicion that it had something to do with him. Why had the scaffold been taken down in a hurry?

Now it had been confirmed she was gone Guy realized how important she was in his life. She was like his plank of wood keeping him afloat in the desolate ocean that was Leicester. He felt as if he could not stay in Leicester for one more moment longer, as it meant real loneliness.

The prospect of confronting the Sheriff right now would be awful; Guy knew that he almost definitely had caused her death. Though seeing Vaizey would not as bad as staying here for the rest of his life, that would like volunteering to be drowned. With that decision made Guy briskly walked out of the City.

He wasn't running away from his problems he told himself. He could confront Matilde's death better away from the Castle whereas the atmosphere of the city just stifled him.

No; he just had no reason to stay there. He was admitting it finally to himself – he hated Leicester, hated it, loathed it, despised it, the Castle and everyone in it. Especially the Sheriff.

A mile away from the Castle and having walked off the first wave of anger out of his system, Guy sat down on a rock by the roadside. The night was drawing in, but the adrenaline was still running through his body, and his thoughts came quickly and impulsively.

So what if he didn't have any notion of what to do or where to go. He'd find something if he escaped from here. Guy indulged all his feelings and resolved that he wouldn't go back, unless he was forcibly dragged.

He jogged on to the village ahead and sidled into the tavern. Guy had a few coins left over from the oddments given to him by the Sheriff at the end of each week. He could buy food and get a drink here and rest the night and continue on his journey.

The money was neither a wage, nor money for his services, that had already bought, but for small necessities that parents would normally support. The Sheriff had grudgingly given way on this as he had no other means.

In the musky tavern there was no food worth buying, but Guy sat to have a pint. He was out of the city and could do what he liked.

A young barmaid of his own age, sixteen, handed him his mug. She was wearing a very low cut dress which fully displayed her neck and chest and exposed almost all of her breasts. Guy couldn't take his eyes of them.

She was a buxom blond haired girl and with a dress like that, of easy virtue. He was half repulsed and half turned on. Either way his eyes were stuck on her fulsome breasts, and she noticed.

The girl came out from behind the bar to stand in front of him.

"I'm Sarah," she said shamelessly, with a twinkle of maturity in her hazelnut eyes.

Guy stood quickly – they understood each other. Guy needed and wanted it and so she led him into the back room. Casks of wine, ale and cider were stored in there.

Sarah lay back on the hay and lifted her skirts. Guy unbuttoned his trousers, otherwise they remained fully clothed. Guy straddled her and she put her hands in his pockets to guide him into position.

They didn't speak a word; it was about actions not emotions, but they both got pretty vocal in the throws of their climaxes. Guy supposed it was a way of seeking oblivion after Matilde's unfair death, and celebrating the fact he was free from the Sheriff, and he could do what he pleased.

Guy fucked her mercilessly wringing every inch of pleasure from her, before slumping on top of her in exhaustion. Disrupting their peace a commotion could be heard on the other side of the door, coming from the adjoining tavern. Loud voices and footsteps preceded the door to the back room from being thrown open.

"Oi Oi!," and two of Leicester town guards burst into the store room.

Guy whipped his head around. The two guards upon seeing there quarry on top of a girl, chucked lewdly. The first guard said after Guy had disentangled himself from the girl.

"Sheriff wants to see you," and took his arm to lead him out.

The second guard stayed behind no doubt to broker a deal with the girl, and so the first guard securely at his elbow Guy was led outside the tavern. This was no coincidence or a friendly check up. When Guy saw the troop of a dozen guards outside, he realized they had been sent to stop his escape.

To have been caught before he'd even begun, it had to one of the most unsuccessful escape attempts and ignoble captures all rolled into one. He hadn't even put up a fight, he'd only just realized he'd been 'caught' as it were.

He reached inside his pockets. He certainly lost the opportunity to fight his way to freedom if he bribed this man perhaps he could be allowed to slip away. He jumped when he found his pockets were empty. The girl. Shit! She must have stolen his money when she was… yes, well…

Guy knew he couldn't go back in there now to fetch it. Bribes had to done smoothly and the moans and groans from the back room which were getting louder told him that the second guard had made a conquest.

The troop of guards now surrounded him in a square formation outside in the black night. Guy was basically under arrest and that made the walk back to Leicester very miserable. Events had moved so quickly, and now he was going back to the place he hated.

…..

Please Review & Guy/Lady Augusta will be developed in coming chapters, oh yes, so keep reading to see how that one turns out!


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Chapter picks up where it left off. The evening of escape the attempt. How will the Sheriff react? Reminder the Sheriff is the Sheriff and for that reason it's an M rating, not for anything particular just an adult tone, as always.

Chapter 13

"Now, now Gisborne. What did you expect to achieve? Hmm?"

"Well," the Sheriff said, grabbing Guy's wrist and sharply forcing him to about turn on the spot. Still holding Guy's wrist in his vice like grip Vaizey whispered cruelly,

"I do hope it was worth it," and the Sheriff picked up his riding crop. He tapped it playfully on Guy's cheek then said coldly,

"Remove your jacket."

Guy knew it was coming and he knew that if he was caught he would be punished, but there was a difference between theory and reality, and he was sure that the Sheriff was going to make him regret his spontaneous escape. More fool him, he thought to have gotten caught.

Thus he wasn't ready for the first blow as it hit him across the right shoulder blade. Guy stumbled forward. He had no restraints, but was expected to just stand there in the middle of the room and just take the punishment.

.

.

.

God damn it, Guy thought, he had been told that you didn't feel a thing after the first twenty. It was a lie; each of the forty blows that were laid on him hurt like hell. The blood was streaming down his back and he was going to give in at any moment – his knees were twitching.

"Forty-one" the Sheriff spat. As the forty-second blow smacked across his flayed skin, he cried out and fell to the ground. The Sheriff merely pace around him, surveying his handiwork; circling like a vulture about to swoop down on its prey.

Guy knew the Sheriff had only just started - and he was waiting for him to let rip at any moment. But it didn't come. The seconds stretched into minutes until the silence and the pacing became unbearable. The silence was torture. Guy fancied he could take any punishment but this.

Vaizey knew he owned the boy him and he reminded himself now to calm his nerves. In this way Vaizey justified his punishment as something that could take place with a clear conscience, if Guy belonged to him that was.

"I can use you as I will," the Sheriff taunted. "Guy…" Vaizey purred, but still he got no reaction.

"Guy," he said again, bending down to whisper right into his ear. The hairs on the back of Guy's neck involuntarily prickled.

The hot breath claming up his skin got right amongst him – it was his closeness and tone the man had which invaded both his body and mind. The Sheriff was so invasive; His master had the skill of at the same time seducing him, ordering him to revere him, through the illusion of choice. But it was only an illusion.

Suddenly Vaizey's tone changed from softness to dangerous irritation when he was not greeted with any response. Vaizey was like a spoilt child, used to having what he wanted and when he demanded it. The man did not take kindly to being ignored.

"Gisborne!" he barked. At once Guy awoke to face reality.

"I could beat you again no one would bat an eyelid! I could kill you," he paused letting that sink in.

"Do you understand loyalty?..." the Sheriff breathed deeply as if to calm himself down. Before resolving the problem and announcing,

"I will not confine you to the Castle, you may leave. But you will return. See how lenient I am. You try to escape and look at my generosity. Be thankful that you have me, others would not be so kind in my position. We are bonded together you and I. Together we can achieve true power – why not stay and share in all the coming glory?"

The seducing tone again even though he wasn't really asking for his consent or opinion; the illusion of choice was strong. A bond, Ha! Guy thought wryly, bondage more like! However, when phrased like that he was persuaded. He would stay, grin and bear it, for the promise of what was to come. He made a noise of assent. There wasn't really a choice and Guy didn't want to be home-less.

Excellent, Vaizey thought he would test the boy further and mould him into the perfect vassal. The Sheriff shouted for a Castle servant. He ordered the servant to bring him up a prisoner from the dungeons. Vaizey then sat back in his chair to wait. Guy nervously got up from his hands and knees.

The Sheriff seemed pleased with him. It hadn't been so bad, Guy resolved.

"Oh, my dear boy!" The Sheriff exclaimed with horror as he saw the state of his blooded back. Guy hid the resentment as well as he could. Vaizey had done and it and had the nerve to pity him.

The Sheriff poured a jug of water, and whetted a cloth, handing it to Guy with a smile of intolerable sweetness. Guy hissed as he cleaned his wounds, perhaps he would have his strokes etched on his back for life, and easing back into his leather coat, it felt very tender.

"Can I go now, my Lord?" Guy asked once he was finished.

"No, Guy," the Sheriff said very politely. "There's something I want you to do for me first." Vaizey smiled broadly again.

At this moment the servant reappeared leading a man from the dungeons. The man was middle aged, very decrepit and though he did have a criminal look about him, no doubt he was only here for stealing some bread.

"Kill him," the Sheriff said forcibly, holding his dagger forward for Guy to take.

The Sheriff pressed his dagger's hilt into his side trying to pressure Guy into taking it. Hands twitched, nervous glances exchanged, Guy tried to will himself to take it, defying the Sheriff now was dangerous, but deep in his soul something was making it impossible for him to reach out and take it.

Guy thought about it; how he could do it. It involved moving his hand two feet. He could imagine what little effort was needed to do it. But looking at the man, he literally couldn't do it.

"… no," he said aloud quietly in a pained voice.

"Really? No? Last chance…"

After about a minute and a half the Sheriff reckoned that was enough. Guy was spineless woman! And with the discovery of that annoying truth the Sheriff in anger jabbed the dagger's hilt into the centre of Guy's back out of spite.

Guy screamed out so loudly and for so long that three attendants ran into to make sure the Sheriff wasn't being murdered.

"Shut-up! Shut-up, will you?!" Vaizey bawled at him who was clutching at his knees to vent the pain.

"Get him out!" the Sheriff commanded at the idle attendants. So, Guy was pulled up and escorted away.

…………………… 

Guy had been taken to the dungeons. He sat on the damp straw in the corner of the cell. The icy cold chill of the dungeons penetrated right to his heart and to every fibre of his being. Guy didn't move or try to fight it. He allowed the cold to numb him. This was his punishment.

He knew why the Sheriff was doing this, he understood the logic. If he ever needed to bind someone in obedience this would probably how he would have gone about it. If some rebellious serf needed to be reminded of his place this type of punishment would be commonplace.

But personally and inwardly Guy protested. He wasn't a serf, though his brain kindly reminded him, no Lord either; the title didn't wash with Vaizey. He was just a squire, and a squire without any parents to reprimand his master for this kind of treatment.

He would be weakened both physically and emotionally by the hardships in the dungeons, and when he was finally calling out for his master he would he brought to plead his case. Lack of warmth, food and comfort tended to weaken both the body and mind, thus lacing any hereafter admonishing with authority, and often portrayed the master as the route to salvation.

Guy knew he was been given sword training lessons with Godfrey in order to use them. But using them to commit cold blooded murder and or torture pathetically helpless peasants was not something he ever imagined doing.

The Sheriff had asked him to do something that his pure heart would not allow. So, here he was shivering away in the dungeons. It was dark even in the middle of the day which was fitting - it reflected the black mood of all of the prisoners.

Unbeknownst to Guy the Sheriff had hired another squire for a month on lease from the Earl of Durham, so Vaizey was prepared to wait a long time for Guy to humble himself, ask to be released, so he could have the upper hand!

The Sheriff hoped that his demonstration of his justice on his squire would be enough to get him to fear him, and therefore fulfil any order, be it murder or torture to avoid a worser fate, his master's displeasure. It was cruel, it was meant to be so.

…………………..

A month later the Sheriff was sitting in his own quarters fully relaxed after a most agreeable evening; he had sated his desire for food, drink and _company _and was reclining on his window seat when a knock on his door revealed his head gaoler. On such a pleasant evening Vaizey was not as annoyed as he should have been at such a disturbance.

The gaoler's grim garb and countenance reminded him that he was having his squire punished. Truthfully the Sheriff had forgotten that he existed. The squire he had borrowed from Durham was so efficient and a better companion and more alert to his needs. So he wasn't likely to rejoice his old squire's return from exile.

The gaoler said confirming his business,

"You told me to come when he asked for you," Straight to the point then, and the Sheriff appreciated the bluntness of the man.

"I did, I did," the Sheriff confirmed vigorously.

His evening had been wonderfully good and disciplining his squire in the way he wanted to would be tiresome. He considered telling the gaoler to postpone his admission till the following morning, but that wouldn't have the same impact on the prisoner. It illustrated the mercy of the Lord and highlighted the punishment as out of the prisoner's own making if he was brought immediately.

Anyway, the Sheriff thought his pleasurable day need not end; in fact he could make it fun. He took a large gulp of wine to enliven his mind in preparation.

The Sheriff waited and soon Guy was ushered in. He looked as if he'd spent a month in a dungeon, which, he had! Vaizey giggled at his wit. Guy glanced up and saw the mirth on his master's face and looked away.

"Gisborne!" The Sheriff said and proceeded to walk right up, pressingly close, in front of Guy and slid his finger under his chin. The Sheriff raised his finger gently persuading Guy to raise his head and meet his eyes. They looked at each other, but Guy looked away very quickly.

Guy had intended to apologize quickly the instant he was with his master, as it was the hoop he needed to jump through, before he could eat and go back to his room.

But once in the Sheriff's room he couldn't give in like that without 'persuasion' because he didn't want to apologize. He hadn't done anything wrong, he'd avoided becoming a murder – though how long that would last was dubious.

"Have you come back to me?" Vaizey asked softly and incredibly gently.

It was asked so simply, the Sheriff was making it easy for him in theory to say 'yes'. However, if he did he would be admitting that he strayed from the 'right path' as it were. Despite these thoughts Guy never considered saying 'no' seriously, 'no' meant certain death, 'yes' only meant suffering in the future and he would deal with that when it arose.

"Yes," Guy said weakly.

"Good."

Now that was established the Sheriff could continue, but there was one thing that he need to get out of his system and so he blurted out.

"Guy you stink!"

"Do I?" he asked honestly, and though Guy conceded that it was probably true, he he'd wore the clothes for the entire month, and hadn't been able to wash. The Sheriff wrinkled his nose in response. He didn't need another chip on his shoulder.

"No one loves you… Except me," the Sheriff said quietly. Guy bowed his head recognising the truth of his words and at the same time mourning them. If the Sheriff's twisted half-love was the only thing in his life that had to be a new low.

The Sheriff reached out and touched his face almost kindly. Guy leaned into the touch submitting absolutely. He craved love and warmth even more since his spate in the dungeons, and right now he was willing to take the kindness from the first person who offered it. Matilde was gone, Vaizey was all.

At the same time Guy was thinking this, the Sheriff was thinking what a young puppy his boy still was. Though he had made a lot of progress with him, the boy still craved love and attention. The Sheriff hoped That Guy was learning that he should come to him now. Guy would now work harder and be more obedient. Vaizey was very pleased, all was coming good.

…

Please Review!


	14. Chapter 14

AN: time has passed (4 and a half months, to be precise-ish!) Guy is 17. Enjoy & Review!

Chapter 14

It was February and the Castle was full of people. Saint Leonard's Day was a very popular and celebrated feast day, even the Sheriff's sister had come to Leicester for the event. And that was why Guy was ordered to greet the guests as they arrived, and generally stand at the door to be walked past.

He could tolerate it. The scathing comments from the noble men he was well used to; they were just an extension of the way the Sheriff treated him. But the noble women he could not handle, especially it seemed not today.

As two women came striding along the corridor both dressed in fine robes. The first in rusty pink silk dress with a cascade of golden hair and the second in fashionable violet both stormed along towards the Great Hall Guy recognised in time that the first was Lady Augusta. The very same who he'd been lusting after since she talked to him back in November. With that realization he knew he couldn't take the pressure of having walk past him this close, and so he ducked out of sight around the nearest corner.

He felt disgusting, sensed that he smelt and could feel his leather clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. His hair was horribly greasy and he could feel it hanging limp over his forehead and framing the sides of his face. It was this which told him to hide.

Guy damned his own weakness silently, but these beautiful creatures were not only so high above him in rank; they valued the social niceties, and could spot a pretender at five hundred yards. He didn't want them to be disgusted by him, especially not her.

Women as a sex intimidated the hell out of him, and yet there was a fundamental tragedy; Guy longed to be near them, and knew he could never win one of them. He knew women were not as forthright as men and wouldn't say if he made a faux pas, whereas men did. The idea of being quietly critiqued, troubled him deeply and made him nervous.

As more guests trilled into the great hall the low buzz of chattering and giggling disguised the sound of someone walking along the corridor. Then a firm hand clenched his shoulder. Guy jolted out of blind fear.

Guy thought desperately that if it was the Sheriff he would never live it down. Discovered hiding, he thought, how humiliating. It wasn't the Sheriff luckily. Instead he looked into the sculptured face of Roger of Stoke.

Trying to regain some dignity Guy tried to sneer at the fellow. Nevertheless, Roger knew that he had caught Guy in a compromising situation and had the upper hand. Roger was two years older than Guy, at a time when a year or two made a difference.

Roger, had already made it clear in the past that he though Guy was little better than a jumped up peasant. And it was just unfortunate that Roger seemed to posses all the social graces and was universally loved in company. It was rumoured that in the Royal Court he was intimate with young King Richard himself.

Though not malicious in any way, Roger did enjoy besting the young squire, as he could palpably feel the boy's jealously whenever he approached. He also found it amusing to have caught him unawares now as Guy was usually very watchful, and so Roger jested,

"Hail, Sir Squire!"

The comment was precisely chosen. Guy was known to be very prickly over his title and was keen for recognition but almost everyone treated it as a joke. He was plainly landless, working as a squire and secondly had none of the knightly attributes that marked one out for respect.

"I say, who were you hiding from?" Stoke asked, "Not your master was it?"

"No," Guy said testily. He knew Roger only suggested it to remind him of his position.

"Shall we?" Stoke gestured for them to continue into the great hall which was now full with people buzzing in anticipation of the feast and entertainments.

"Or," Stoke hesitated to mimic deep concern, "Perhaps you haven't been invited?"

"I'll be there," Guy said grimly to avoid giving a straight answer. Obviously he was going to be there but he wasn't going to _be_ there as Stoke would.

"By the way I like my steak well done!" Roger reminded with mock seriousness before darting in the hall, leaving Guy frozen in the corridor.

The anger rolled over Guy in waves and he began swearing repeatedly under his breath, using the foulest language whilst imaging Stoke roasting slowly over a fire. He wasn't a common servant. Why? he bitterly reflected did everyone in the castle seem to feel it was their duty to treat him like one.

He wasn't here for their entertainment, much as it felt the opposite. He tried hard not to let it get to him, but as he considered he couldn't remember a day when he was not either, ridiculed, scorned or chastised, it was hard.

Guy was understandably in a black mood when the festivities began, standing from his vantage point an inch behind the Sheriff's chair in the shadows, he surveyed the company. Then the Sheriff came into the Great hall to stand in front of his chair at the high table.

The Sheriff's sister Davina was on his arm. She was a handsome woman in her early twenties but very cold. She was wearing a crimson dress with her hair up in the fashionable cornered headdress, and carried her self with self assurance that one might think she was queen of all England. Though many young men tried to catch her eye Davina had eyes only for her brother. Guy made a note not to cross her as she looked severe.

As the pair seated themselves so everyone else followed, and the food began to be brought in. The boar, which the Sheriff had hunted himself yesterday, had pride of place on the table. Harts, pheasants and swans were all liberally dispersed amongst the tables. The skins having been sewn back on gave the effect that the all the woodland animals had also been invited to the feast.

The feast continued until late. Afterwards entertainments were held in a nearby field. All the peasants and village folk mingled with the nobility as the festivities bubbled over from country dancing to storytelling and cockfighting with every other kind of entertainment in between.

………………………. 

The same evening abstracted from the merriment Guy sat on the steps outside the armoury. It was detached from the Castle but yet also set apart from the city proper. He was sharpening his sword as a break from endless polishing of the Sheriff's armour.

It wasn't as if the Sheriff ever wore it, he was happy to let others do the fighting for him, but he liked to have his suit of armour displayed in pristine condition. Thus Guy's hands were stained with vinegar, which he used for the cleaning fluid, and his face now contorted in concentration as he sharpened his blade, painting a very grim picture indeed.

The City too was decked out in bunting for Saint Leonard's Day and could be seen through the dim. But Guy had remained unmoved he hadn't even changed his clothes for the occasion – he could have done, the Sheriff would have let him – it was the custom to dress differently and no one was working today.

But he didn't feel as if he could participate; it all felt too innocent, something which he simpler folk could indulge in but which he could not.

He was a murderer and he felt it. By holding himself aloof he would not taint the innocence of the festival, he didn't want to ruin everyone else's day. Thus, Guy sat in his black working clothes alone by the armoury while everyone else enjoyed themselves.

Flashback

"Do it, Gisborne."

But he didn't need any encouragement – somehow he had taped into some inward source of white hot rage. His eyes were hard with aggression and his whole body tensed wanting for any signal to lash out.

He lunged forward at the command drawing his sword straight through the man's gullet, ripping through the other side of his body. The man's hot blood streamed on to the ground, spattering loudly. Guy pulled the man effortlessly close to him in a killer embrace, completing the deed and ending his sudden aggression.

The wounded man fell to the ground and looked up in pain. Guy then mistook the glimmer of pain in the man's eyes for pity, and he violently kicked him, repeatedly, until blood as a result gurgled up from his lungs to the chest wound absorbing into his tunic. Once again, sobered, Guy stopped abruptly. The sudden aggression gone, again.

The man's family were screaming hysterically and the other villagers' were close to full rebellion. Though Guy couldn't quite take all of it in. He had just taken a life. He was astounded, really, as soon as the he felt the satisfaction a second later it was replaced by a natural mix of shock and guilt. The villager's screams were only background noise to what was beginning in his head.

His mind was in purgatory; Why? How? When? all filled his head. Guy wished he hadn't done it, but at this moment the Sheriff slapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him in a new conspiratorial way as though he'd raised his opinion of him.

Guy mounted his horse quickly to follow the Sheriff who had already trotted away. But the mob of villagers blocked his way as if they were considering clubbing him to death, they looked up at him with pure hatred. Guy was rattled by their hatred but masked his turmoil and acted as if he was in control, then galloped away from the scene.

With horror he realized that was exactly what Vaizey would have done. He'd behaved so callously after murdering, an in all likelihood, innocent man. The guards had rounded up remaining villages and threw them into the now following wagon, likely to be heading for the dungeons and then the hangman's noose. And he was now part of the whole process, how could he complain about their treatment?

End of flashback

Vaizey thought it was something of that sort which prompted his squire from holding off from the St. Leonard's day celebrations and that it was utterly silly. Though, Vaizey thought, it did suit him. The naïve fool thinks he's the only one to have committed a heinous crime, when in fact half the people at the fair will have probably committed the same crime, and the rest different ones! That was a happy thought.

Still the Sheriff wasn't going to make him come; if Guy wanted to martyr himself by holding off that was fine by him. Also, with all the sugary female nonsense that went on at these fairs he was glad his squire wouldn't be there; as it could soften him up, and he didn't want that after he'd worked so hard to toughen him up. God! removing that Matilde had take a whole day to arrange!

…………………….

Still sat on the steps Guy would have cried, if his eyes weren't so dry that they made it impossible. Deep guilt and shame filled his conscience, but there was no one around to talk to that he might share his feelings with – not that he would have with some stranger. Perhaps he would have confided in Matilde, if she was alive, she would have listened.

In his depressed state Guy imagined going off to hang himself. Suicide was an option for someone in his state of mind, he reasoned… but he was too cowardly. Also, the way Guy imagined the discovery and reaction to his death was so minimal that it hardly seemed worth the bother.

What was the point in making a dramatic tragic death if no one cared or noticed it to mourn its tragedy? He thought resentfully. The Sheriff would be the only one to comment, to care in fact, as it would inconvenience him somewhere along the line.

What epitaph could he expect from his master? Morbidly, he thought of his grave stone – _'Guy of Gisborne - "Oh so he's finally done something useful."'_ He wouldn't give them the satisfaction to think that. He might be a murderer but he didn't want to be written off; he wanted to live. So Guy vowed to be strong, to try and cope and learn to live with himself.

Then from out of nowhere, the woman who yesterday had been wearing the pink silk gown came up to his side: Lady Augusta. But she'd changed her dress for night of St. Leonard's and now she was wearing a white woollen gown which made her look like a bride.

"Sorry to bother you," she said respectfully. "It's just my groom has broken his leg. Would you escort me?"

Guy sensed that it was an effort for her to explain herself to him. Indeed, her reluctance was written all over her face. She did not associate with varlets, and despite the hyperawareness and the exchanged looks they were strangers to each other, and slightly awkward.

Augusta also struck him as a girl used to getting her own way – not that he was about to refuse her. It was simply an unexpected request, though certainly not an unwelcome one.

Staring up into her face he knew she was in earnest and half smiled.

"Er, yes, of course… my Lady," Guy added with some attempt at gallantry.

She remained standing next to him as if waiting for something.

"I wish to go now," Augusta commented dryly. His lack of action despite his positive words made her retort somewhat tart.

"Oh," Guy sprang up and went to the stables to find stables mounts for them both.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: love is in the air la la la la la, love is in the air etc…etc…

Chapter 15

Since the eve of St. Leonard's day Guy often escorted Lady Augusta once a week wherever she willed to go. Sometimes she rode out to visit a small chapel or to visit a friend, and Guy waited outside with the horses. Sometimes she just wanted to go out for a gallop for fun and then Guy rode behind at a respectful distance.

Today it was a fine May day and Lady Augusta wanted to ride out simply to find a perfect spot to rest and enjoy the sunshine. Ever since her groom, who usually accompanied her when she rode out, had broken his leg in a careless fall from his horse, she had been taking advantage of the Sheriff's squire and his ardent admiration of her to ride abroad, and retain her freedom.

On her other trips she barely spoke more than five words to Guy; he accompanied as a groom and there was no opportunity to speak. Except today they would be in each others company sitting idle some conversation was looking likely.

Guy was smitten with her, speaking to Augusta didn't influence his love, simply accompanying her was a pleasure. Today instead of riding behind his love he had been given the honour of spending the day with her _and_ away from the castle. In theory it was a dream come true.

Once the riding was done and a woodland glade had been reached. Actually, as Guy pulled on his reins and slowed to a halt, he realized that he didn't actually want to dismount. Guy felt his shoulders stiffen and tense; it was going to be an excruciatingly awkward day at best.

The horses were now tied and were huffing contently. Birds were singing all around them and the sun shone down merrily.

Lady Augusta took her place quietly at the base of a giant tree on top of a large buttress root which made the perfect bench, so she could take in the nature that was all around her. She was thinking that she really shouldn't encourage him. Woodpigeons cooed and a multitude of blackbirds were singing their intricate and unending melody. Guy felt privileged to be here with her despite the nerves.

"It is so beautiful, isn't it?" Augusta said drinking in the perfume of the air.

"Yes," Guy said dumbly looking at her.

She looked across at him and then turned away acting as if he hadn't spoken. Damn! Guy thought. He'd already made her feel uncomfortable. Women don't want you staring at them, Guy – that's already established, it's a given.

He kicked his foot hard into the tree root in irritation. The pain in his toes enabled his mind to focus on that instead of his blunder.

"Sit down," Augusta gestured at the place beside her gracefully with her hand.

He couldn't do that, Guy thought, he wasn't her equal. He couldn't sit down next to her! Secondly, her proximity, if he did so, would potentially be too much of a temptation to keep his hands and thoughts to himself. He did not want to yield her up to shame.

So, Guy opted for sitting on the ground, resting his back against the tree root. Augusta made no reaction or response – it appeared that she didn't care. She didn't care. But Guy was worried he may have offended her and asked to make sure.

"You don't…" he gestured at his place, "mind?"

"Why should I mind? I'm not your mistress." Oh my God I wish you were, Guy thought.

Silence descended quickly and Guy was wondering if he should say something, and if so, what. All the while the birds were singing happily in the trees all around them. Unquestionably they found courtship the easiest thing in the world and yet here he was incapable of saying anything.

With courage Guy turned his head back to look at her face, hoping that he would think of something to say when the moment came.

But Augusta had her eyes closed, and her head was leaning against back on the trunk of the tree. She was sleeping. Ah, he thought ,she was asleep, but Guy didn't mind, he had been spared another awkward moment. How perfect she looked; even fairer in sleep.

Her face so white, her lips so red, her hair so golden; she definitely looked like an angel. England was blest to have such a lovely unearthly beautiful lady amongst them. Next to her he felt mortal whereas she seemed immortal.

He couldn't help but put her up on a pedestal. Guy half thought about stealing a kiss from her lips. Perhaps it was this scandalous thought that jolted Lady August from her sleep; for she twitched and suddenly awoke.

"You were looking at me!" she accused.

She saw the look of horror on his face and laughed. Guy was confused by her laughter; wasn't she displeased? She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder smiling honestly.

"I find it flattering. But you know, I am to be married soon," Augusta hoped it was a gentle put down.

In her mind she had thanked him for his devotion and service to her but told him that she was unattainable, already claimed by the promise of marriage. To Guy he interpreted her words as a confirmation of love. She was telling him that she liked him but she could not act on her impulse because her marriage was being at this moment being arranged.

His heart leaped and spirits soared; she liked him! Guy beamed up at her. Augusta was surprised, firstly he had never smiled before, and maybe he hadn't comprehended her message.

"You do understand, don't you?" she pressed firmly.

"I do," he said, a little too ardently that she would have wanted.

Then again, Augusta thought, she would be married soon and leaving the county and would never see him again, so it hardly mattered if he didn't understand. He would eventually, because she would be gone. Lady Augusta got up, and to clear her head from sleep, suggested a stroll.

Guy offered his arm, and she accepted. It would be impolite to refuse and it was only the average conduct of a groom, though with Guy she felt unsettled, and sure that he thought of her acceptance more than mere courtesy.

Anyway, she was keen to maintain the light heartedness of the outing and so they walked together adjacent to the small stream.

They had a surprisingly light hearted conversation, about the tournament, which was taking place in France this month. Guy confessed that he really wanted to take part in the tournament in the future. And Augusta who had attended a couple of the tournaments previously with her family was able to satisfy his desire for more details. For a lonely soul Guy was having such a nice time.

Then Guy said quietly, almost in her ear.

"Are you looking forward to getting married?" She twitched startled by the unexpected question.

"Yes. I mean - I will leave home and become a great lady." Guy thought that was stupid; she already was a great lady. Though doubtless she meant she would come into a better title.

"and obviously it won't be my choice; I'll marry the most advantageous suitor who can strengthen my family's political importance and wealth. It will either be perfect for my family and I, or perfect for my family and dreadful for me – it's up to my father. I can't think on't for long – if I did I'd go mad with worry; so let us talk about something more pleasant."

Guy was sad for her. She had described it like entrapment. He wished more than ever that he could rescue and protect her. If some fearsome dragon could but appear he could slay it and she would fall into his arm and they would live happily ever after. But he could hardly intervene in the diplomacy of this type and so he sighed. Nevertheless Guy asked;

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes," Augusta said. "Help me onto my horse."

Indeed they had somehow arrived back to the tethered horses. But she had evaded the question, and responded with the anticlimax of the century. However, Guy obediently held his hands out so she could lightly vault on to the back of her horse.

She trotted off before he had even reached his mount. He felt hurt but then she turned back in her saddle some yards away from him and called,

"Come on!" Guy spurred his horse on with renewed enthusiasm and cantered up to her to ride back to the castle.

….

Aaaawh…….

Alright place your bets. How is this one going to end? 100-1 happily ever after, 10-1 badly, 2-1 oh so very badly, 'It's certain to mess him up for life look how he turned out!' No odds!

Please Review & place your bets!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Why are you smiling, Gisborne?"

"My Lord, I've been talking with Augusta," Vaizey interrupted him.

"Oh yes of course; Augusta. I should have known..."

"A word of advice dear boy, about love, in a word; avoid it. Do you want to be the laughing stock of the court? Be made to look a fool? Become soft, weak, immobile? Because if you do, by all means, be my guest – go right ahead. I could do with some court entertainment. But," the Sheriff stressed his condition. Then continued,

"For God's sake do it with someone who is within your social sphere. Have you by any chance noticed any of her other suitors?" Vaizey answered his own rhetorical question.

"Earls, Dukes, Lords – the high nobility. They're all battling it out for her affection in order to gain advantage with her father. What makes you think that her father would consider you for a moment!" Vaizey exhaled violently.

"What you do _reflects_ upon me! Don't embarrass me for some high born leper, who, let's face it is probably only talking to you out of pity!"

"Grow up, Gisborne," the Sheriff said, as if that concluded the discussion. Vaizey knew it was only an infatuation on Guy's part, but it was best he thought, if it was nipped in the bud.

Sleeping with the maids was fine, acceptable, normal and even expected; but attempting to court a noble woman was ridiculous. Vaizey would not stand by and be made to look a fool by his squire. The Sheriff, just to be sure his poison had worked, started again with his verbal offensive.

"When are you going to realize that you'll never be good enough for their snotty little daughter?" Vaizey enunciated very slowly and clearly.

"When are you going to learn…They don't like you."

His master voiced Guy's darkest fears and with such self-assurance that Guy could not see how he could be wrong. He began to feel ashamed that he had ever dared to presume otherwise. The Sheriff like a shark sensing Guy's mental shift went in for the kill.

"Repeat after me; 'I will not go near that leper ever again,'" Vaizey said icily.

The Sheriff's words felt like he was pushing a needle into his heart. He was allowing the Sheriff to drain his blood, which out of flowed his love. He was being leeched. Guy dropped his head repeated the words.

"I will not go near that leper ever again."

………………………. 

Guy saw Augusta in the corridor and the assurance felt when we was with the Sheriff a fortnight ago had evaporated; his master wouldn't know if did speak to her. Guy approached her carefully, not wanting to startle her.

It was widely known that her father had accepted the Duke of Kent's proposals for his daughter, and that she would be travelling into Kent soon to be married. Surely talking to her now could not count.

"I've heard of your marriage – the Duke of Kent?" Guy opened.

Augusta did not reply – it was a fact. It needed no assent from her.

"If only I…" Guy started but then abruptly stopped.

"What? If only… what?" she questioned determinedly.

Augusta wanted his declaration out in the open, so she could crush it. Her father recommended she do this and she didn't want to enter the marriage state with any burden on her conscience. Any hint of a scandal attached to her, or even rumour, could damage her marriage.

It was a very advantageous match. The Duke was very powerful and his brother was the Archbishop of Canterbury. Of course he was fabulously wealthy, as he was connected to the Church, and his title was a respected one.

The Duke of Kent was only thirty and was reported to be handsome. All these reassurances made Augusta feel contented with her prospects for her future life and husband. Augusta did not want to risk losing all, which sounded so agreeable, for the misplaced ideas of a squire. She had to smother his affections.

"If only I could protect you from the entrapment... your marriage, I mean," Guy said.

She sent him a withering look before speaking.

"I must be married; I don't want to die an old maid! I told you of my marriage proposals, though it was not your place or privilege to hear them…I didn't expect your help, nor do I want it."

Guy still had the feeling she was saying this against her feelings. She cared for him, but was trapped.

"You haven't seemed happy since his proposal. Would you hesitate if I were asking the question?"

How dare he suggest he knew how she was feeling! True, at first she was terrified, but that wasn't his place to comment on. Now she was looking forward to the marriage with only the minor anxieties of any bride-to-be. Secondly, did he actually presume that she would fall into his arms if he proposed to her!

"I've dealt with you gently before in order to not cause you any unnecessary pain, though now it seems I must be more blunt," Augusta said sternly.

"To me you have always been nothing more than a groom, a means to an end: a ride abroad, and escort to some place or other! You seriously misinterpret my affections if you believed anything I might have said or implied to have come from some special partiality I have for you, rather than a courteous civility that I would have extended to anyone!"

Her professed indifference greatly piqued Guy. She was so eloquently fired up; if she was addressing this lecture to anyone else Guy was certain he would be aroused. Ah! he shouldn't be thinking like that. He knew he should be listening. He missed a couple of sentences but tuned in again to hear a really fierce bit.

"…though maybe if I'd adopted lofty superiority I still would have confused you. The Sheriff calls you a naïve idiot, I fear he must be right."

Guy was stunned and shocked unable to say a word, and Augusta took this to be her clue deal the final blow.

"Our acquaintance is at an end. Goodbye." With that Lady Augusta proudly walked away from him and the whole embarrassing interview.

She had meant to hurt him. Nothing but the cruellest of put downs would, she was sure, make him comprehend her, thus killing the ruinous potential for gossip.

On reflection, going over their meetings of the past months Augusta scolded herself: she had smiled too much, perhaps giving signs. She felt half responsible for misleading him and had to over compensate in reprimanding him, as in a way she was also insulting herself. However, it was done.

……………….

Later that evening Guy couldn't help but reflect upon the indignity of it all. As much as he loathed his master he had to admit he had been right about her. He had been deceived in her. Augusta had actually meant every word. She'd ripped his heart out only to leave it battered on the ground; no kind word of conciliation.

Guy volunteered to bear Vaizey company this Saturday evening. Even though he didn't have to - Guy was let off duty at nine o'clock officially though he often stayed later, because the Sheriff compelled him to. Tonight Guy just lingered.

"You were right," Guy said dejectedly.

The Sheriff had no idea what Guy was talking about; but no doubt he was right, and so agreed whole heartedly.

"As always. You're going to trust me more in the future Gisborne, hmm?"

Guy was leaning against the table with his arms crossed protectively around his body, the Sheriff thought, making the place look untidy. Much as he'd rather be with more cheerful company this evening Vaizey was never one to miss an opportunity to bond his boy in dependence to him.

Thus, Vaizey checked his impulse to tell Guy to stop standing about like a crow and instead set about testing the Castle's latest batch of jam.

The Sheriff had a very sweet tooth and insisted that every pot of jam made should be brought to him for tasting. Rows of jams were set out on his desk. The Sheriff sensed his boy's need of kindness. There were times for carrot and there was a time for stick. Most of time, it was a time for stick, however now was a time for carrot.

Guy was still feeling humiliated. He continued to dwell on the rejection and the juxtaposition of his and Augusta's feelings over the past months which were truly embarrassingly.

"I'll never get married," he muttered bitterly.

"If you don't you'll be a better man for it. Lepers, Gisborne, lepers."

Guy mulled that sentiment over; he could definitely appreciate his master's dislike of women now. 'Frailty thy name is woman' and he couldn't think of anything more fitting.

The Sheriff tasted a spoonful of the sweet tip raspberry, and his face positively lit up.

"This will make you feel better," the Sheriff proffered a spoonful of the sweet jam he had just tasted.

Usually no one was allowed to taste the Sheriff's jam, on pain of death. The Sheriff made no move to hand him the spoon though - his hand remained outstretched as if he was expecting him to eat from the spoon like a child.

Very cloying Guy thought, nevertheless he stooped to taste the jam. It was delicious; no wonder the precious preserve was guarded so obsessively.

"Good boy," the Sheriff smiled sweetly. The boy was literally eating from his hand.

It was in a moment like this that Guy could believe that the Sheriff actually cared for him. They were few and far between, moments like this, but when they did occur he felt loved. Moments like this made him stay with Vaizey, and stoked the fires of loyalty for many winters.

..

Ooo! What's going to happen next? Find out in the next thrilling instalment… or in 2 days time! Review, and I shall be most glad.


	17. Chapter 17

AN: The following conversation is so banal, why I think everyone in the world must have had this conversation! Though for the record I'd be a fluffy red squirrel. Aaaawh.

Chapter 17

The day after Guy had been so rudely awoken from his infatuation, Lady Augusta's words were still ringing around his head on constant repeat, recreating the inflection of her voice. Her crystal clear revelation only heightened his sense of inadequacy. He wasn't good enough.

She had managed to lead him to the conclusion, confirming what he thought, that there was something deeply internally wrong with him. After he had killed, Guy knew that he'd changed but now he had proof. Normal people didn't want anything to do with him.

The Sheriff, on the other hand, thought that the whole thing had turned out rather promisingly. He hoped that because Guy's hands had been burned young, he wouldn't likely fall in 'love' again soon, or maybe never again, one could hope.

So, despite the mopping that he had to put up with, Vaizey couldn't help but feel that a valuable life lesson had been learnt. The Sheriff drilling Guy with his worldly-wise mantra, 'Love is a waste of time. It diverts attention from more important things' was sinking in.

Vaizey, in these crucial days after Guy's set down encouraged him to replace his desire for love as the top goal in his life, for Ambition. Money, it was all about money. If you have wealth you have respect, if you have wealth you have importance, and the Sheriff convinced Guy that these three things were all he wanted.

The characteristic cold-heartedness steeled over him. Humanity rejected him, Guy rejected humanity. The Sheriff was all he had and could count upon.

The next morning the Sheriff took Guy on a tour of the surrounding villages. The Sheriff thought as it would serve as balm to his wounded pride, and put an end the Lady Augusta business. Guy didn't really want to hurt the people but he was feeling angry and that, he thought darkly, was why the Sheriff had chosen today; so that he could channel the aggression into the peasants.

A man from Harlaxton was the first unfortunate to 'go under the hammer'. He was overheard muttering dissent and casting aspersion on the Sheriff's lineage, "Bloody bastard; what does he know!" was what Guy heard anyway.

A quick nod from the Sheriff and Guy had him a headlock; a strange enjoyment or at least grim satisfaction in torturing others was being fostered. When he was told to inflict pain purposefully by the Sheriff, he did so. It was becoming cathartic, and really very easy.

Guy tortured these peasants because he was told to. Though there was also something else. Guy's wealth of techniques had all been copied from the Sheriff; ones which he'd himself had been on the receiving end many a time.

By striking out in the same way at the peasants, Guy felt somewhat better. Or to some extent his actions cleansed his childhood of the some unpleasant memories

"AAA!"

Guy's sword was red, that was another soul for his conscience to remind him about. This wasn't shaping up to be a good day.

Back at the Castle the Sheriff keep Guy with him during the afternoon. The conversation was tedious and Vaizey was half-heartedly tending to his birds.

"If you were an animal what would you be? I think I'd be a hawk. Intelligent, hmm? Wonderful creatures birds don't you think, Gisborne?" the Sheriff prattled.

He got not answer. Guy was simmering in the corner his arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Vaizey sensed his present vulnerability.

"You'd be a dog, wouldn't you?"

"My Lord?"

"A dog," he repeated. "Utterly faithful, obedient, watchful, loyal… Sounds familiar doesn't it? And of course, completely stupid."

Guy snorted in anger and huffed; he wasn't stupid. And his words had actually hurt him.

"Awh, have I hurt you?" the Sheriff cooed.

"Sit Gisborne"

He complied – if he did so he probably would be allowed to leave sooner and from experience it was better to let him think he was going along with his whims. Guy didn't want to actually enrage him.

"What is it that's upset you? Not me," the Sheriff decided.

"Is it Lady Augusta? She still on your mind? Or earlier? Feeling bad? Well don't! You've send him to heaven, isn't that nice," Vaizey patronized. His problems were a joke.

The Sheriff made to pat his head. But Guy jumped out of the chair to avoid the gesture.

"Fuck off me!"

"Grow up, Gisborne," Vaizey said seriously.

The Next day Guy's mood was had not improved but it seemed the Sheriff was determined to cheer him up. Or just be annoyingly cheerful around him, same difference really.

"Guy how's your French?"

"My Lord?!"

"I fancy a holiday. How about I enter you for the tournament – that'll cheer you up!"

Guy was startled; there had to be an ulterior motive. True he had been wanting to enter into a tournament since he was a boy, but Guy found it hard to keep up with the Sheriff's whims.

"Er…" he droned aloud.

"Right, that's settled then. We're off. Allons y, vite! vite! This is going to be fun!" Vaizey rubbed his hands together happily.

….

P.s. I'm updating every 2 days but I usually stick the posts on late like 8/9, on a good day, and that transmutes as 10/11pm on the website. If you're ok with that, cool. But if you're on story alert you get it instantly, and therefore 1 hour earlier. I hate waiting for stuff, so you if you want to put it on story alert – it might be more convenient for you… Just thought I'd let you know.

Review I say!


	18. Chapter 18

So it's been 4 days, sorry! (I'd like to think you noticed!) I've been really busy, you know; went to the ballet, working, etc, voting Tory. Apparently everyone did the same, eh?! (It was my first time) To make up for it this is a long chapter, so it's like the equivalent of two in one. That sort of covers my break. Now on with the tournament! – enjoy! Nb. Georgette Heyer's 'The Conqueror' helped me with the actual fighting bit. Sorry for the narrative bent of this chap, it couldn't really be helped : )

Chapter 18

The trip to France which was organised by Vaizey was very last minute. The idea had been off-the-cuff and the arrangements had only been sketched out, for the tournament was to begin that week and they would only stay in France for week or so.

Vaizey thus contrived to travel lightly with only two servants and Guy in tow. He didn't want to waste funds on a lavish retinue and it had already been arranged that he would fight alongside the company from Nottingham. So, it was best that were to be only two in different colours, as to not detract from the identity of the company.

Every season the tournament was held in Northern France, and the area was swamped with people for this spectacle. Leicestershire had a population of roughly two thousand, and they were widely dispersed. At the tournament there had to be over ten thousand people.

The camp was mostly made up professional knights and men come to fight in the tournament, but also a substantial number of noble women and ladies maids who had accompanied their husbands were present.

Alongside the hundreds of wealthy spectators who had come to watch, a fair proportion of the camp was made up of merchants and low characters; thieves and opportunists aspiring to make money from the event.

When the Sheriff arrived, the camp was full of jollity and despite the cold March day it hadn't seemed to chill anyone's hearts. The main tournament would be taking place tomorrow, and they had arrived when the camp was teeming.

Guy was over awed by the scale of the camp, the magnitude of people all wandering about. The tournament tomorrow would certainly manage to rustle up two fair decent sized 'armies'. The camp was full of colour, noise and excitement; an assault on the senses, and there were a variety of stalls all selling pies and hot food.

Jester and jugglers milled through the crowds entertaining and doing card tricks for interested parties. Musicians were playing to the general mass of people, and everywhere one looked some knight or other was showing off his new horse or armour to impress young ladies.

It was if the whole world had gathered for a great pageant, which it had in a way. Tomorrow the tournament would be watched by many people.

These were the days before the tournament was glamorized into chivalric jousts, but where literally thousands of men performed in war games, mock battles, to hone their military skills and prepare for battle. It was a harder kind of tournament.

Instead of killing your opponent, the reward for success was the knight's ransom; an amount of money varying on the wealth of each knight. Naturally, the poorer knights could make their fortune if they were successful in combat, and could cherry pick the wealthier knights to attack.

The tournaments not only provided a training ground in the art of war, they also acted as a meeting place for knights all over Europe: the perfect area for diplomacy. Marriages were arranged and rivalry sprang up between peers at these tournament.

Tournaments showcased the military strength of various European nations, and offered headhunting opportunities for young knights, especially in this time of war. King Richard wanted as many men to join the Crusades. All Europeans were welcomed, and the King's brother, Prince John, was at the tournament to headhunt such valiant knights.

And for that reason Vaizey thought it best to keep the reins tightly on Gisborne whilst in France. He did not want the young idiot to be head hunted or lured into the Crusades with the promise of glory and power. He was nurturing him to be of maximum use and they did not include letting Gisborne join up with another Lord to get killed in some fruitless Holy War.

The Sheriff's plans needed a faithful dogsbody, to help secure and retain his position and in the long term, help him to assume of the county of Nottinghamshire. Vaizey had long had his eye on it and as Earl and Sheriff of Leicester he only had the power of life and death over a dozen villages and the city.

Nottingham on the other hand was altogether a much more prosperous county, and as Sheriff he would be 'God' to the entire county, and hundreds more people.

Vaizey promoted Guy's training in combat, fighting and brute force but did not educate him in politics nor military strategy, nor French, nor to admire fine literature or poetry which was very modish. He was equipped with reading and writing, nothing of the elegant calligraphy of the monks though; no social etiquette was spelt out to him, especially not the art of courtly love.

He was disadvantaged, especially, if he ever wanted a 'leper'. Noble women were quick to make opinions of the knights who courted them - if they had no polish in company they were unlikely to be accepted as suitors. Lady Augusta gave daily proof to the assertion.

The Sheriff was fairly certain that Guy, cowed as he was, would remain faithful as he could not eloquently advertise himself to other nobles. His ignorance concerning formal etiquette, and courtliness further beheld the boy to him.

If Guy was uncomfortable in society he was therefore less likely, Vaizey felt, to petition the Royal Courts or anyone else for that matter.

At the age of eighteen Guy was decidedly an isolated youth, sullen and often found brooding. The tournament's potential for networking, forming alliances and petitioning other nobles was diminished by his upbringing. Thus, Vaizey reasoned that the tournament wouldn't pose any real danger to their 'special relationship'.

So, the Sheriff hoped the tournament would provide ample training for his apprentice, satisfy his desire for revenge, and hopefully win a fortune so that he wouldn't be so much of a burden fiscally. Not that he indulged Guy; barely any outlay was spent lest it was absolutely necessary.

For example, Guy wouldn't be wearing a proper suit of armour in the tournament; the Sheriff was expecting him to make do with chain main and lots of padding.

Gisborne would ride into the tournament in Vaizey livery of Leicestershire and would know where his loyalties were, or he would have to _remind_ him, if he showed any dissatisfaction.

OH and it was a pity, Vaizey internally lamented for the hundredth time that the Sheriff of Nottingham Sir Edward was not here. At a tournament it would have been so easy to kill him - in the midst of battle accidents happened. Especially when one side retreated in chaos, lots of knights were ambushed, and in that particularly violent foray many knights were often seized.

Who would protest if in that melee a man was killed? These accidents were not uncommon: a couple per season was the average.

Oh well, he thought, there was plenty of time to plot and take over smoothly without scandal. Meanwhile, supping before the tournament was the primary concern.

………………………

Later that evening, ensconced in the tent that would be their home for the next week, which more accurately resembled a brightly coloured marquee, the Sheriff was entertaining about thirty of the nobles from the encampment.

This was done in order to share supper, make alliances, and generally suss out the competition; Evaluating the comparative wealth of the knights in the room to best judge who to target on the morrow. So what if they were sort of on the same side..?

The meal was rowdy and food and drink was shared around pretty liberally. Guy along with all the other squires was silently standing behind Vaizey's chair, as they gorged themselves; they waited to be of service. Though Guy was not better treated than the other squires perhaps worse, in tomorrows tournament he would be given the chance to fight and show his ability, unlike the others who would be tied to their masters.

Most of the squires would be riding into the tournament holding the gonfanon, the flag of arms for identification, and thus would have to beat off any attackers with it. They were forced to stay close to their Lord in the fight, and protect him from being captured and fighting off attacks, whilst holding the flag which blatantly proclaimed his identity through the family coat of arms.

The Sheriff considered entering Guy for the boxing competition. He could win it, probably, but the prize money wasn't as high as could be achieved in the main tournament. In the end the Sheriff decided that it wasn't worth it; he didn't want to spend his life with a squire with cauliflower ears. So, Guy was spared the extra fatigue.

Guy on the other hand had permission to cut lose and enter into the tournament properly. Now, his eyes were boring through the spectacle in front of him as he stood rigidly to attention. His mind dwelt on the tournament tomorrow.

He was apprehensive and yet also excited, he was being given the chance to distinguish himself and win a modicum of independence. Though he dared not hope, hopes filled the back of his mind: that another Lord might notice him and that he could leave Vaizey.

His master, he felt, tried to beat down his spirits at every turn and it was slowly infecting his soul. He wanted to be free Vaizey's evermore sadistic schemes, all of which involved him. But it was a silent plea, a dream.

Amongst the nobles, sitting eating around the table and hoping to make a name for himself, was the sixteen year old son of the Earl of Huntingdon, Robin of Locksley.

He was a distant figure to Guy but Guy was aware that he was one of the nobles who lived near Nottingham; the Sheriff had recently compiled a list of all the important people in that area in preparation of for his coup, contemplating if and who, he could trust to help him seize the county. But that's all he was a name.

Guy and Robin had not been introduced and therefore there shouldn't have been any animosity between them. But Guy couldn't help but feel jealous of him.

All the English Lords had been grouped together in the same area of the camp and Guy could not help but notice the younger boy's popularity with the girls, his easy charm and outgoing nature.

Indeed, he seemed to have everything Guy thought he lacked, and it didn't help that he was sitting down at the table when he was standing up serving to it. The boy made him feel inadequate, generally lacking and worthless.

He hadn't even come into his title. He was here with his father. Guy was, officially, Sir Guy of Gisborne, and yet he was the one who was worse off, Robin had even come into title, and he hated that.

Guy felt anxious. Locksley was smiling. Locksley was practically grinning. Locksley was now laughing his head off. Why? What was funny? Were they talking about him? Anxiety and bitterness gripped him firmly and he couldn't let go of his suspicions.

Every laugh and smile felt designed to sting him. Guy strained his ears to pinpoint what Robin was saying through the noisy general conversation of the table. He was desperate to overhear any insult directed at him come from the younger boy's lips. Guy was infuriated.

More important that escaping Vaizey was his aggressive passion to do better than Robin of Locksley whom he knew he would be fighting near.

The Next Morning – The Tournament:

There were roughly two thousand men on each side. The collision was going to be tremendous, and once the unhorsing started, the conquest to random enemy knights would begin. The tournament would go on until nightfall until every available knight had been ransomed.

Guy could see the opposing 'army' drawing up at some distance and see their silken gonfanons shivering in the breeze. The sun caught the tips of the lances and reflected light glinted of the knights shinning armour. His horse stamped restlessly and champed at the bit.

Clubs, maces and swords, all waited impatiently to be used.

Suddenly, Guy found himself wishing the tranquillity might remain unspoilt; in his mind he could see the ground torn up under the charging horses' hooves, and injured and bleeding mean lying on the ground, and groans of 'battle' masking the peaceful birdsong.

Guy gave himself a shake to rid himself of these womanish fantasies. Men were, after all, born to fight.

He glanced back quickly at the Sheriff; he was sitting back in his saddle with one hand on his hip, apparently bored. He and the company from Nottingham were on the right flank, and all participants were on horseback. They were all awaiting the giant cavalry charge.

Heralds now rode about letting everyone know the tournament would begin very soon. Guy felt breathless, as though he had been running hard, and the blood drummed unpleasantly in his ears. His lips were dry and he licked them out of nervousness.

Guy prayed that he would bear himself as became a knight, in this his first fight.

The sharp order to charge rang out and the horse in front bolted forward. And then suddenly they were off. Both opposing sides spurred into gallop, and the purpose was clear. Guy followed close on his heels of the man in front. Suddenly he was excited, not breathless anymore, and not afraid.

The thunder of hooves was all about him; and Guy's attention was fixed on the rider in front of him who was riding furiously into the tournament.

Ahead of them the opposing troops were galloping towards them. Guy wondered what would happen when the crash of their meeting came. The shouting of many voices drummed all around him, and he found that he was yelling as well: "For England! For England!"

The noise of hooves grew louder and louder as the approaching charge answered their own. Borne on the wind came the cry of the men directly opposite shouting, "Sankt Ulrich! Sankt Ulrich!"

And then the two armies came together with a crash that brought both sides to a jarring halt. Shields clashed against shields: in a tight pack men hacked and hewed, horses attempted to jump the human wall to move into space.

There was a man on Guy's left already down, and he was trampled under foot. Guy heard him scream but he forced his horse on through the struggling press. Someone cried out that the Sheriff had gone down. Guy wasn't worried however, Vaizey could handle himself and he knew if he was in danger would have no qualms about retiring back to the camp instead of risking capture and random.

The Sheriff was, in fact, composing himself after his fall so he could thrust his lance at the on coming knight and successfully skewered the knight's horse.

The horse fell, blood pouring from its nostrils, and terror dilated the mortally wounded horses' eyes. The pain faded and the horse died. The Sheriff was now warding off that knight's sword attacks with his own lance.

Some distance away Guy was in the thick of the fight himself. He was still on horseback but a knight on the ground was desperately throwing blows at him. The height disparity worked in his favour and his attacker wasn't having much luck.

Guy's horse reared up in fright and his attacker was clipped on the head. In this way Guy took his first knight; reaching down he cut downwards with his sword ripping the knights coat of arms from his tunic.

"Surrender?" he shouted at the semi-conscious man.

"Yes," the man said absentmindedly from the ground who was bleeding profusely.

Guy then wrenched his horse and swept back past the knights lying on the ground effectively 'dead' and out of the tournament, and drove into the mass of yet unclaimed attackers.

With a howl a knight pinpointed Guy for attack shouted and slashed his sword. But Guy was ready and whirled his own sword aloft and sliced in through the air and around the side of his opponents' arm. Guy shook the sweat out of his eyes and held his sword up to the knight's neck and shouted,

"Surrender?"

The knight honestly handed over his own coats of arms that were stamped on his tunic, and Guy rode of away. He was still fighting with a frighteningly untiring energy two hours later. But since then Guy had abandoned his lance and fought on foot with his sword.

For how long the skirmish lasted he did not know. The shifting mass of riders passed like phantoms before his eyes. Sometimes one phantom would come close, and he struck it mechanically.

Once he saw Robin of Locksley's face in the thinning press; it was flushed and determined, but it vanished as new faces swarmed before his vision, always changing, as faces changed in uneasy dreams.

Guy battled on and ransomed many more knights that his memories all blurred into one, and he could hardly remember each conquest. Then it was over. Darkness came.

Guy was extremely tired after the tournament but he couldn't help laughing. Splendour of God, he thought, I've done it! He'd captured twenty-six knights and in total acquired twenty pounds!

A modest man wouldn't spend that sum in his entire lifetime. He'd done well, really well. Though the value of twenty pounds. Little actual money would be handed over. Guy's money would mostly tied up in suits of armour, and jewellery, belonging to ransomed knight, but these items could be sold.

Unfortunately, Vaizey would be in charge of negotiating prices for the sale of these items and obviously would cheat him blind. Then his master would deduct the cost of his passage to France from his winnings, and very likely every penny he'd ever spend on him, and knowing his master even the ten silver pennies which he'd been bought.

He'd be lucky to be left with more than a few trinkets for his troubles. But Guy put this out of his mind for the while - he felt accomplished and very proud with himself.

Once the tournament was finished all successful knights seemed to head straight for their wives or the women followers who charged. Guy was filled with adrenaline – also felt this need. He headed straight for the tent which was the makeshift brothel.

"How long for?" asked the tent keeper.

"The evening," Guy said grinning, and he reckoned he deserved it.

The holiday would very soon be over, now was the time for freedom. Going back home was something best not thought about, the daily grind was nothing as diverting as the pleasure of the tournament.

….

Please Review!

& people of who like/are ok with / slash! In my break, I was, get this, writing! It's a one-shot. So feel free to go along to the robinhoodslash community on livejournal. I think you'll find it, if not, message me. Look for the Charles icon. that IS me! But this one is adult. Warns


	19. Chapter 19

Righty-ho! I'd like to Remind you that this story is rated M. I mean that, seriously. I don't want to tell you what happens, but take my warning. M means fairly adult. 16+ I'd say. I don't want anyone to be offended. Look your reading a thing about Guy and the Sheriff, if I didn't include something like this it wouldn't be realistic. Something fairly slashy must have happen cough the Sheriff is a rampant homosexual – Fact! Though the way I've done it, it leads the story into the non Guy/sheriff slash future world. So look at this chapter as a necessary evil, if you want.

And now… Chapter 19.

Chapter 19

Back in Nottingham the Sheriff had successfully sold of all the jewellery and suits of armour that Gisborne had been given as payment after the tournament. The money was resting nicely in his vaults and he had no conscience telling him it was wrong not to give his squire more than a tenth of the profit.

However, one thing about his squire was on his mind. He was getting older, a thing that couldn't be helped unfortunately. Guy was nearing his twenty first birthday, and he would be expecting what was due to him, namely the confirmation of his title.

Vaizey was a little resentful about the prospect of knighting him. He was going to talk to Guy about it this evening, but first he was going to get a drink.

Much later that evening:

"You think it is your right, don't you? That because your almost twenty-one, I should confirm your title? Well you don't know me as well as you think. Since when did you desire, I mean deserve that name?" the Sheriff was by now slurring his words.

He was nearly drunk yet still had much to talk about, much to Guy's annoyance. Really, it was almost midnight.

"Your knighthood a mere formality, don't make me laugh. You're not the King of England. Far from it, you're not worthy to wipe his arse. And that is saying something Richard is a blasted fool. John's the real King. He's ten times the man Dicky will ever be," the Sheriff took another gulp of wine.

"Whereas I think you need to earn that right."

How had the Sheriff got on to talking about his knighthood Guy wondered? He wanted it very badly but had known better than to drop any hints or suggestions to his master.

"Oh wait, you think your years of 'service' have earned you that right, don't you? Well I say you need to prove your right; By performing two special acts of devotion… If you do this I will knight you after you've done the fasting praying, la di dah di dah, bit."

Guy knew he was very tipsy but he knew he was in earnest when he said that. If it was truly that simple, there had to some thing more in his mind. The Sheriff only made deals when he got something in return.

The Sheriff considered what he was about to do in his head briefly. Vaizey decided that Guy was still only a boy and there wouldn't be anything amiss; he could look upon it as a rite of passage, the Sheriff thought giddily.

Guy returned a questioning gaze.

"Kneel, Gisborne."

He complied. Curious as to what was to follow. His eyes were exactly level with the Sheriff's belt buckle. Now the Sheriff unbuttoned his trousers to reveal his member. Guy was stuck and unable to move.

"I bet you have a wicked mouth. Show me how much you want this."

No! no! nononononono! Guy wanted to scream, but reined it in, just. He had to do as instructed as there could be no backing out. There wasn't much of a choice, and so very reluctantly Guy ran his mouth up and down Vaizey willing his mind elsewhere. If he didn't think about what he was doing, perhaps he wouldn't have as many vivid memories.

He knew that his master was tipsy and therefore would be less capable of remembering tonight. That was a blessing.

"Faster, Gisborne," he said breathily.

It was horrible to be thus directly addressed; they choked Guy into full consciousness. He thought that if he lived a thousand years he could never forget those words. Wanting it to be over as soon as possible, and, as it appeared to the Sheriff, quickened his pace, enthusiastically.

Then in less than a minute the Sheriff was grabbing a fistful of his black hair and pulling his mouth up to full hilt to empty his seed down his throat.

The taste was horrible and he was made to swallow it. He was then bidden to clean him, liking away the traces, especially from the head.

"I enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Guy intoned thinking it best to give the answer he wanted to hear.

Then he sat back on his knees waiting for whatever was to come. It came all too quickly for Guy.

"Unbutton your trousers," the Sheriff commanded. He did that. But no more. He didn't like where this was going.

"Don't be shy. Let me see you." Again doing as he was told, against his will, Guy exposed his cock from his trousers. He had never felt so vulnerable. Just sitting in the middle of the Sheriff's quarters with his manhood on display.

Vaizey thought he could have asked Guy to lie down, so he could bed him. Guy had not protested at all so far, he would probably let him. Though, the Sheriff thought that would hardly be fair – this way Guy would get to have some pleasure as well, a clue: No! This way he could watch the boy and see the effect of his power.

"Touch yourself." The crisp order came, jolting Gisborne back to the sexual torture.

Again without real choice Guy had no option but to rub himself to hardness trying his best to block out his surroundings. He was almost getting there, and the Sheriff's voyeurism was certainly being satisfied.

"Honestly Gisborne, have you no shame? - Giving yourself a hand-job in front of me. You're no better than an animal."

The Sheriff stepped behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Come!" he ordered.

It so happened that Guy was on the verge of this anyway, before the order, and it was fright more than anything made him give way at this moment. The sticky wet come spilled all over his lap and down his legs as he sat. Instantly the act was finished Guy was disgusted with himself.

"How very obliging of you, to come on my command," the Sheriff said faintly impressed, as Guy made an effort to wipe his trousers of his self-defilement. But he was verbally stopped.

"Leave it! It looks good on you."

Guy had never felt so dirtied; he had disgraced himself by going along with the Sheriff's sexual perversion. Was it worth it for the confirmation of his title? One thing at least, once he was knighted he would not be compelled to do that again… ever. He made that promise to himself.

"Look at me! You're a submissive little slut, aren't you?"

That was no way to speak to a human being. However, the Sheriff was quite tipsy and aroused, so he was hardly going to get a politer request. He looked up shyly, biting back tears.

The look on his face was a picture. Yes! This was better than taking him. He enjoyed watching him and just taking him would have been over so quickly. This had been over too quickly.

Still it had to be the best power game he had ever entangled Guy in and even without any physical contact he was hardening. He said he required two acts of devotion. He'd got that. The Sheriff had other servants to meet his actual sexual needs, but Gisborne was in a way, akin to forbidden fruit.

He was more tempting because the Sheriff knew he really shouldn't, especially when he was on the verge of coming into age. He wanted more from the boy, but those types of commands could never be ordered only submitted to voluntarily after he was knighted.

Also, he hadn't opted for the sex as he didn't want to taint him. Gisborne had been purchased for a different purpose – namely to fight his enemies and secure and maintain his power through whatever means necessary.

In this one thing the Sheriff would give him a choice. He hoped he would voluntarily submit to him in this. So he said,

"I will knight you because you have done what I asked. Unworthy as you are, I will have you confirmed into your title as soon as may be. Now I'm tired, will you stay and share my bed?" He asked without preamble.

Guy knew exactly what he meant. Wild horses would not keep him to be fucked mercilessly into the Sheriff's bed. He was not going to become his catamite.

But it would not do to lose his tongue right now. To his credit he was allowing him the chance to respectfully decline.

"With respect my Lord, I prefer women."

"Oh well, it's not like I need you! Be gone, I'll see you on Sunday for the official ceremony. Lord I'll look forward to seeing you in white! Ha, you're going to look daft. Not so pure anymore, are you?"

"No, my Lord," Guy droned soullessly.

Did he think that this had been his first sexual experience? Obviously he wasn't a virgin. But did the Sheriff think he was? That was sick.

He'd hadn't taken his virginity but notably his dignity which was basically the same. The idea of messing like that with someone who you thought to be a virgin was nauseating.

……………………

Guy shut himself off in his room. It was the day before he was to be knighted, the Sheriff would keep his word. Traditionally this was the time when a young man in his position would spend fasting and praying.

Guy mindlessly said the Rosary but otherwise he just stared out of the window, soaking in the bath – not exactly thinking of anything, but absorbed in his own head.

It took half the night to get to sleep; his head was working doubly hard to keep him from remembering about the previous night, and the effort kept him awake. Subsequently, Guy overslept in the morning.

The ceremony was taking place at ten o'clock, and at a quarter to he jumped out of bed and hurriedly pulled on the white leggings and the white chemise. He ran down to the Great Hall strapping on his belt in the corridor.

Everyone who had been press ganged into turning up for the ceremony was in the background waiting impatiently for the ceremony to begin.

It was fairly simple affair, a priest said a few words and he was called forth to be knighted, not many words were spoken.

Guy knelt to be knighted. He was finally coming into his man's estate. The cold metal of the sword tapped on each of his shoulders in turn. He didn't really feel any different inside, in fact exactly the same as ever, which was crushingly disappointing.

As a child he dreamt of this day; once he was knighted everything would be alright again, but it was true what they said, an adult's world was more complicated, and he knew that his knighthood, though a true testament to his own hard work, had not truly changed anything.

He knew the Sheriff to be standing above him but he hadn't so far looked at him directly. Guy knew him to be waiting for him to get up, so he could slap him to the ground. It was the traditional method of awakening the young man out of adolescence and into manhood.

However, Guy wished he could shuffle backwards and not go through with this tradition. He sensed that the Sheriff would put some weight behind it as a way of punishing him for not staying the whole night.

Embracing the inevitable Guy bravely stood up, the blow did not come. He stood right in front of his master and looked him straight in the eyes. Like a viper the Sheriff struck a fierce slap across his check and he recoiled from the impact which was the most intense pain he had ever experience.

Guy teetered on the edge of the stage and almost fell off. What would the superstitious say about that? He wondered. Perhaps….out of the frying pan into the fire.

The assembled crowd burst into enforced applause, and after about four seconds, it ended. Soon the gathered crowd started thronging for the exit. Guy slipped away as well, it had been sort of a non-event.

Life was just going to go on. And bloody well on, until doomsday, it seemed.

…

Please Review p.s. hope I haven't lost any readers.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: I want to progress the whole story along. So since Chapter 19 we've jumped about 5 years. Note, this is the last major event to happen in Belvoir, Leicestershire. Guess where we're moving to….. ya. I know! Lots of action coming. Marian fairly soon!

I hope this will explain Guy's haunted tone 'heinous crimes' re. the wedding. Does this satisfy you Kimmeth??

Chapter 20

The years passed. Vaizey tried to integrate himself as much as possible with Prince John. Guy existed. Time seemed to evaporate, and five years quickly went on in this manner until Guy discovered that Jane was pregnant.

In his vain search for fulfilment Guy had resorted to the baser pleasures. Over the years Guy learnt to take his pleasure wherever he could, as true contentment was nigh on impossible to find.

Anyway the maids and serving women at the Castle were a sport and conquest of sorts which won him respect from other men who admired his prowess, and they only encouraged Guy to yield to bodily temptation more often.

Therefore, it was not surprising that Guy's first by-blow was due to be born out of wedlock. Or that it would be with Jane, who though not particularly pleasant, was one of the more attractive Castle prostitutes.

But Jane was a demanding and a rather bold whore, and was requesting money so she could keep the baby when it was born. Guy didn't really care, and simply told her to come to him when it was born.

He didn't know why he'd asked, he could have given her the money right away and disposed of the matter, but the baby would be his first, and Guy was a little curious to see it.

…………………………

Two weeks later Jane barged into his room. It was about eight o'clock. The baby had been born some weeks previous but the pregnancy had tired Jane considerably, and she couldn't be bothered to go and argue her case, until she was in full fighting spirit once more.

In her forthright way she barged into Guy's room with only the merest of knocks that alerted Guy of her arrival.

Standing up from his cramped desk in the corner Guy was confronted with her and her baby, it was rather intimidating. She held her month-old son in her arms jealously; a fierce protector, one who would fight to save her own.

Jane opened her mouth to argue, but Guy shushed her with a finger and took the baby from her. If he didn't take the opportunity now, she might never relinquish her baby;

And before he knew it he was looking down, wonderstruck, upon his first child. A baby boy, small and incredibly pure. The baby, even though he was his son, and shouldn't really surprise him, looked startlingly like him, which pulled at his heartstrings.

His son was gently breathing and had fluffy black hair and shinning blue eyes. If the child wasn't a bastard Guy would have been incredibly proud. Guy knew he was smiling and didn't really care. Jane was hovering in the background taking the scene in.

She was vaguely impressed. He had some affection in him obviously, which she hadn't expected. No doubt he would make a good father someday. So, here was her chance to take advantage of his parental instincts and bleed him of some of his cash.

"So you'll give me money to provide for the little bastard, eh?"

"Huh? Oh right," Guy looked up, peeved that she should disturb him and insult his son.

A mother's love wouldn't be guaranteed then, and with that crushing realization Guy took in the reality which now awaiting his son.

Neither was the world's.

The baby's physical resemblance to himself only hit home what the reality for his child would be. His child was so cute, and yet his life was already planned out. His mother was begging for money. That meant poverty for the boy. Bastardcy led to ridicule, rejection, and desperation.

"I'll have him attached to some castle. He can be a page or some such like," Jane said.

Well that about confirmed it. The boy was going to have his life, only it would be worse. He wouldn't even have his name, nor the memory of a loving family. And because he was a boy it made worse; there was an expectation attached to boys. It wouldn't have been an issue if the child was a girl.

Jane's reassurance that his son would be installed as page, understandably, gave no comfort. The boy would have his life. He'd turn murderer and worse.

Guy looked deep into his soul and heart, something he did rarely, because the void of emptiness and misery, along with the catalogue of his own heinous crimes, which stared him in the face always made him want to jump of a bridge.

This only confirmed it - he'd ruined his son's life, already. This made him tighten his grip. Guy didn't wish his life upon anyone least of all his innocent baby. Mind made up he knew he had to end it. If he allowed the boy to grow up and experience all his own sufferings wouldn't that be a greater sin?

Guy's muscles tensed and his fingers twitched and tightened on the baby's neck.

"What are you doing?!" Jane shouted, betraying panic.

If only she had known, that it was precisely her strategy of masked indifference and insult which had prompted Guy to act in this way, she would not have taunted him at all.

She fatuously tried to pull Guy's hands from her baby's neck. But it was useless. Guy was strangling the life from the baby. He was locked on his task now and nothing could stop him. The baby was writhing and his son's eyes were bulging out of their sockets because of the force he was exerting.

Purple veins stood out underneath his skull and marred the baby's white temples. Looking at the baby was breaking Guy's heart, and killing it, was also killing him. Yet what else could be done.

A strangled cry came from the baby's lips, and the inevitable happened. Its neck snapped and the baby's lifeless form flopped. Guy dropped small lifeless body onto the bed, and roared at Jane to get off him.

She had been, and still was, pummelling his side shrieking. Obviously her previous show of disaffection had been abandoned as she was crying hysterical over her newborn's murder.

Guy flung from the room utterly torn up inside and about to break into floods of tears. He had not known before that was capable of murder in his own right, especially _not_ infanticide.

…………….

After this, Guy's reputation as a murderer was finalized. Somehow the villager's fear of him grew and the word 'murderer' when it was directed at him was instilled with greater meaning, a much darker connotation; even though, he was sure, the greater population didn't know what happened between him and Jane.

Guy's tally was up by one, and it was to be this mark more than his other reprehensible crimes that tallied in his mind.

…..

Please Review – come on we've reached a milestone, 20 chapters, why Are you still reading?? : )

Mustn't be that bad, I have to say, I still think it's cringe-worthy! Then again I wrote it, probably you can never like your own work because it's too familiar, the style etc… I don't know.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: so it's short chp. It's hoooot! And I think you'll have an idea what the next ones about, so think on't!

Aaawh he's such an idealist.

Chapter 21

"My Lord," Guy said as way of announcing his arrival.

It was a very hot day in Leicester and Guy had been summoned to the Sheriff's rooms. Frankly it was a pleasure to come into the inner sanctum, otherwise know as Vaizey's room, as it provided a welcome respite from the heat.

And, in general, he was being treated as more of an equal now, and when they talked business everything was fine. Guy was finding it easier to cope with the Sheriff; fear had turned grudging to respect.

And though ever since his knighting, he did have to put up with a quite a bit of inappropriate touching on a fairly regular basis, the Sheriff's caresses could be ignored. However, that was it, and Guy was learning not to react to his innuendo or anything of that nature. So, life was as well as could be expected.

"Straight down to it then," the Sheriff declared, as if picking of from some previous conversation.

"Prince John is backing us all the way. He says we can just take over!"

Guy was still slow on uptake, and remained silent. It sounded like the 'Nottingham thing' but he wasn't going to ask for confirmation. So, the Sheriff seamlessly continued his monologue.

"Edward shouldn't be hard to scare; though we best bring money to bribe any guards and important people. We wouldn't want Sir Edward to think he could resist us, now would we?!" the Sheriff smiled evilly.

"No, my Lord"

It was the Nottingham thing. Obviously they were _finally_ on their way.

"Go and fetch the horses, Gisborne. We'll leave right away!"

Guy was put out; Just when he thought the Sheriff was beginning to treat him fairly. He was twenty five and still being treated like a squire, and Guy was just a tad resentful. Well, on the other hand, it was to be expected.

By the age of twenty one and confirmed in title most squires would return home to their family, after their early training and manage their own estates. This hadn't happened for Guy, and therefore without a clearly defined purpose, he ended up doing whatever the Sheriff told him, simply to keep himself occupied.

"My dear boy tomorrow we will have power beyond imagination. Don't think on the present! _Do it_ - Look what is just round the corner!"

And then Guy _did_ jump to and he went around to the stables to obey the order. Once there Guy realized that it was _that _outlook which Vaizey had used so successfully entrapping him in his place. He knew Vaizey's manipulation techniques very well; they had moulded half his existence. Even so, Vaizey's philosophy still had the power to make him look to the future instead of the present.

The obsession with the future and the Sheriff's continued promises to help him get revenge on his father's murderer and help him to reclaim his estate effectively held Guy in place.

Ever since his botched attempt at escape when he was sixteen he'd never tried again.

But today would be the last day of such treatment, and that's why he complied, Guy told himself.

Not only that would they be riding into Nottingham today to live the high life, Vaizey had promised him that they could deal with _his own estate_ on the way! Nottingham did, indeed, sound like a place where dreams came true.

On the way to Gisborne village:

For the first time in over fifteen years Guy was riding out of Leicestershire, past Nottingham and towards his old village. It was like going back in time. Everything looked familiar yet different. Slight changes along the roadside made it seem odd and a little unsettling. Guy reckoned they passed the exact spot on the road were he first met the Sheriff; a long time had passed since that day.

As they rode through the village and into his own Guy was astounded that he place was still here, and it was amazing to be back. Taking in all the surrounding houses which made up the village Guy was annoyed to notice that they looked very small and dirty, especially compared with the City of Leicester, which was modern and stone built. Here in his own village there were only thatched and wooden lodges.

Then Guy's attention fixed on his house, and there warm feelings and nostalgia overcame him. He remembered all the good times in the house, as a boy, with his parents, and playing with Joseph Lambert right here! It seemed like an age ago. But he'd not noticed the faults then…

For example, he'd forgotten that they shared the well with the villagers. The manor was small and very basic, and just as muddy, and just as smoky as the other houses. If this commanded a title he could well understand the scorn the higher ranking nobles though of families like his.

Guy could feel Vaizey's eyes drilling into the back of his head; he knew what he must be thinking. Although he was thinking along the same lines himself, he felt a deep affection for the place and was embarrassed that his master would be critiquing his property so cold heartedly.

He knew it wasn't valuable, but it was priceless in other ways. Then Guy remembered who lived in the house. No doubt his father's murderer would still be alive, here, and living off the profits.

Guy, along with an extremely unwilling Vaizey walked into the house through the front door. Robert would have to be confronted. If they were to take control and live in Nottingham Castle, this had to be dealt with. The close proximity meant it was essential to settle it satisfactorily. Guy wanted to claim his inheritance and desperately wanted revenge.

In the houses front room Guy was shocked that it had hardly changed; the oaken dresser still dominated the room. But upon closer inspection small details such as ornaments weren't familiar and the tapestry had changed which all reminded him this wasn't his house. Or rather, that someone else had lived here for the past fifteen years.

His master was not the ideal companion for a trip of this kind. He kept on coming out with the most insensitive things and his expression was fixed as one of distaste, it was if he was only grudgingly staying put as a personal sacrifice on Guy's sake.

"Eh, look at this vulgar passage!" the Sheriff called out.

But Guy was distracted. On the mantle piece he had noticed something that looked familiar. Holding the queer object Guy realized that the claw like dagger _was_ his own dagger. He'd recognized the handle for it had been the one his father had presented to him when he was nine years old.

Yes, and it made sense why it should be here as well - Guy remembered dropping it before running away from the house on that fateful day.

But now the blade had been curiously thinned, and tapered to become like a claw. It was not unappealing though it had been curved. Bolstered by his memories, knowing it to be his, Guy felt justified in taking it, and thus he secured it underneath his belt.

As the two men were wandering about the front room, a female servant appeared to confirm that the master was not at home, and that he had ridden out early, but would be back soon. She invited them to sit and wait. That was indeed why they had come, to see the master.

"Would you like refreshments while you wait?" the girl asked.

Guy was about to open his mouth to say 'yes', when the Sheriff cut across him.

"Lord no! We're not stopping _here_," he said with derision.

Vaizey walked out and Guy had to follow.

"Aren't we going to wait? You promised I could do this," Guy said indignantly.

"Noble as your desire to restore your family pride is, I'm not waiting here in this awful, _awful_, place all day. How about we torch the place and you come back later to 'do the deed'?" Vaizey said but it wasn't really a question.

He gestured for the accompanying guards to light some torches. There were good stones for striking a flame from on the ground, but the guards burst into one of the villager's house instead to tip their torches to one of their blazing fires.

Foolishly Guy thought he'd be able to do what he wished with his own house.

"But it's mine, No!" Guy half shouted. How could this be happening?

"Guy it's tainted. Look, when I have Nottingham I'll give you a much better estate."

"But I could sell the house. I want revenge, but I don't need to destroy my estate…" Guy argued back.

Frankly he was scared that the evidence of his happy childhood was close to being removed from existence.

"Look it's never been your estate. You won't be loosing anything! Stop being so whinny Gisborne, or people will actually think you're turning into a girl," Vaizey exhaled theatrically. "I will leave summons with the servant and your man will come to us at the Castle," the Sheriff firmly decided.

Guy's property very quickly burst into flames. He couldn't believe he was watching his house which he'd dreamed about returning to ever since he left it being destroyed, practically at his own hand.

It had to be even more criminal as it was taking place in the middle of the day. They had full knowledge of what they were doing, and were in the plain view of anyone who cared to watch.

The Sheriff decided this was best, the manor had to go. Gisborne couldn't live twenty miles away and by destroying the property no independent noble could take over the village. The Gisborne land could now pay its feudal duties straight to him, in Nottingham.

Vaizey did leave summons for Robert telling him to retort to the Sheriff of Nottingham at the soonest possible date, with the house keeper. Hoping that by the time Robert would arrive in Nottingham he would be the counties Sheriff, and Guy could have his revenge without inconveniencing him.

They rode back down the road they had just come along. When the Sheriff announced to a still quivering Guy that they would be making a social visit.

"We will stop at Knigton Hall to see if Sir Edward is at home before riding on to the Castle, Gisborne. So buck up," the Sheriff said with delight. Guy groaned, the day was about to get worse.

…

Please Review!


	22. Chapter 22

OH no! so just when my story is just about to be lifted out of the tragedy, to indulge in the romance fun. RA goes and says that it will end even more tragically. Damn it Peter!! So, we sort of guessed that, but having it confirmed it's like oh no! "he's getting darker" sure he was a light character before!! And he's sort of going to be killed aaaaa. Any ideas about the other evil character…. Only person I can think of is Prince John. That would be good Or Sir Jasper, I thought he was really cool, his accent hahhahha! Speculate with me, I seriously can't wait till series 3!

P.s. I do have a chapter, hahaha mm yes lots of news! reminder: G + V are on the way to Knigton Hall to see E, and coming up is the first G + M scene. Here goes…

Chapter 22

Guy groaned inwardly again. He knew why they were going; it was all part of the plan. Vaizey could ask Sir Edward to accompany him into Nottingham and then throw him out publicly, basically. He wasn't privy to the details.

Although, honestly it didn't matter, the idea of meeting Sir Edward again for Guy was troublesome enough. If Edward recognised him it would be awful. If he didn't recognise him it would be terrible in another way; He'd be alone in his knowledge of their past encounter.

Maybe Vaizey would remind him…God that would be intolerable. Also, Guy feared that his master, whose resentment and jealousy of Sir Edward Sheriff of Nottingham was so strong, would not make him an ideal house guest.

Vaizey wasn't very good at concealing his emotions; it would be hard enough going to visit Sir Edward, but to forced to keep up conversation to cover for Vaizey impertinence, not that he considered the art of conversation as one of his skills, would be even harder.

The daughter would probably be there too. The Sheriff said she was a young pretty sort of a thing. Vaizey recalled seeing her in Nottingham Castle at one of the last Councils. Marian; that was her name he was told, though it'd be _Lady_ Marian to him.

It was the last thing Guy wanted right now to be forced to made polite conversation with a noblewoman. He hated her already for making him come all this way to talk to her, and no doubt to make a fool of himself, and be quietly judged.

When what Guy really wanted to do was to wait back at his now burnt out house and ambush the man, who since the age of nine, he had desired to be revenged upon. He could just about stab his master for making him come along to make this social call. It going to be bloody torture.

…………………

In under an hour they had arrived, and both the Sheriff and Guy were standing in the front room waiting to be received.

Knigton Hall was simply, yet luxuriously furnished. There was a wide fireplace and nice pretty decorations in the main room, all signs that a young woman lived here. It was a well aired room and, unlike Belvoir Castle, it gave the impression of being a place to breathe.

Sir Edward rose to greet them and walked into the front room. Guy immediately noticed that the years had taken their toll on him. Sir Edward's hair was grey, and there were deep lines etched on his face. A flash of recognition sparked in his eyes when he looked upon Guy.

But Sir Edward quickly recovered from it, and henceforward acted extra normally to mask the momentary discomfort.

"Leicester, how nice of you to drop in. You've come to Nottingham for long?" Sir Edward inquired putting his feelings of dislike aside.

He was friendly and welcoming and feigned a first meeting with Guy as if he was stranger, though they both knew the uncomfortable truth.

Edward had never liked the Sheriff of Leicester, he always found him threatening and often patronizing. The appearance of civility had to be maintained nevertheless.

"No, or perhaps I should say _yes_," Vaizey answered, exchanging a secret look with Guy as the old man notably missed his hidden clue.

"My _friend_," the Sheriff said sardonically, "Sir Guy of Gisborne had business in the area." At least Vaizey was making an effort at conversation, Guy thought.

Sir Edward gave him Guy fugitive glance and put on edge by the sight of his grim countance thought to call for his daughter to lighten the mood. Though he knew his headstrong daughter would hardly approve of these guests, Marian would support him in the tiring interview.

"Marian!" Edward called up the stairs in his gentle voice, "We have guests. Come down."

As Sir Edward floundered and smiled embarrassedly he suggested his guest be seated. Guy contented himself with sulking in the corner. But as Marian glided into the room his face transformed into one of lively interest.

Sir Edward got up and as he was making his daughter known to the company stiff bows and a brisk curtsey were formally exchanged. Her dazing crystal blue eyes which were always admired, looked into Guy's grey ones and he was captivated like the rest.

Marian's decided air for one so young and her quick confidence and steadfastness came across rather more than socially expected. The dictated image of proper feminine meekness, which was more appropriate, eluded her. Just shy of sixteen Marian had the able to captivate and smile with such beauty. But was loath to do so; blessed with her father who would not condone her marriage for anything less than love, it was better to distance herself from men, neither did she want them or them to want her. Robin was the only one for her.

Guy's predictable admiration of her didn't soften Marian. For Guy certainly liked what he saw, and Marian could see it. Ah men, she thought. Though Marian supposed Guy could be called handsome she wanted a man who would control his lusts, or at least for them to not play so obviously on his features.

Marian sat down and demurely placed her hands in her lap, determined to avoid his eye contact and rise above the distasteful situation.

Polite conversation was made for about five minutes before the Sheriff brought up the deserted estate which he had saw on the way. He asked for more information.

"Oh yes that'll be the Locksley estate," Sir Edward said helpfully. "It's only been deserted a couple of months, hasn't it Marian?" Marian tried to remain composed.

The deserted house only reminded her that Robin had gone, or more accurately had left her. She had been left with a broken heart and all because he had opted for glory instead of marriage. Robin's sacrifice injured her, as his fiancé, and her chances of marital happiness.

That men left women all the time, and for less noble reasons than his, did not reconcile Marian to his absence any the better. Yet, she still loved him and wished for him to come back as soon as may be so they could enjoy their lives together.

The separation was still too raw in her heart for her to answer with masked indifference to her father's question, but she fancied herself a good enough actress that she didn't betray too much discomfort.

"Yes, my betrothed goes away to fight in the Crusades, and he leaves his estate quite deserted," Marian said.

Marian couldn't know why she felt it necessary to spell it out that she was engaged. To admit to herself that she was vain enough to expect Sir Guy's advances was shocking, and she put her comment down the need to make random conversation.

"All fair in love and war, eh?" the Sheriff said unhelpfully. Another uncomfortable descended to the room, which after a few second the Sheriff broke.

"Sir Edward?" Vaizey asked, "you wouldn't mind if we spoke in private…?"

"No, not at all," Sir Edward said, a little confused.

"Gisborne," the Sheriff said under his breath, "Go. And take the girl."

Sir Edward realizing his companions' desire for privacy, said aloud to Marian,

"Marian. Would you care to show Sir Guy around the garden?"

"Yes, father," Marian said to assure him that she understood.

Sir Edward smiled at his daughter in a thankful way. Marian loved her father dearly and was impressed with his air around their guests, who were contemptible in her opinion, before striding towards the back door without even checking to see if Guy was following her.

At the back of the house there was a small rose garden along with other flowers. Unlike at the front of the house were there were only vegetables. The delicate flowers were at the back, shielded from the village. The garden had been planted by her mother and Marian remembered her mother's pride in it.

Unlike embroidery Marian enjoyed tending to the rose garden especially as it was something that connected her with her mother, Katherine, who had died when she was only eight. Luckily gardening of this type was a respectable female occupation one which no one could remark upon.

Her defence training and sword practice were on the other hand highly unusual. After her mother's early death her father found it hard to deny her anything and generally allowed her to indulge in whatever pastimes she enjoyed the most.

When Robin and Marian were children they had been pretty wild, Robin had coached her with the sword and the bow, and though it was unusual, Sir Edward didn't mind that she should learn how to protect herself.

Marian had grown up in male company and this had influenced her, teaching her to be headstrong. Maybe her present companion, Guy, picked up on this and was put off from speaking to her. He seemed to quite shy, so Marian said to break the silence,

"You know Nottingham well?"

"I grew up not twenty miles away," he replied, referring to his families' estate, now deceased. Burnt.

"So you've come back to live in the neighbourhood?" Marian said politely.

Guy winced slightly, not only did her comment remind him of the earlier arson, but that he was here to throw her and her father out of the Castle, effectively taking her position.

Guy didn't answer directly and instead quoted plainly,

"Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to endless night."

Marian was much struck by what he had said,

"That is a lie!" she passionately asserted. The way the man spoke was as if he was one born and destined to hell. However, ironically seconds later she was damning him to hell herself for the way he was staring at her.

At one time Guy would have thought that Marian speaking as she did, cared for him, but that was stupid. Cynicism told him that in reality she probably hated him. His previous encounters with women hadn't ended well, why should this, just because she was attractive?

However, Guy couldn't but hope she meant it what she said. The Church had made it plain he was all but excommunicated for his sins, and if Marian though he could be saved surely he couldn't be beyond redemption. Secretly, Guy hoped that behind her words Marian also meant something more personal.

But it was all fantasy. Of course she didn't. That decided, Guy glanced deeply into her eyes to make sure. Her face was really, very soothing and he could feel his body responding to her. His core seemed to be gravitating towards her and Guy was slowly falling into her space, as if being pulled in by a magnet.

Marian powerless to stop his slow but steady closeness was terrified. Robin had never pressured her like this. If she didn't move she was going to be raped on the stop. She took Guy to be a knight of the flesh, who honoured women oh yes honoured them morning noon and night.

Marian felt her head spinning, that she would faint if she didn't move aside.

"We – W-We should go inside," Marian stuttered uncertainly. She had said it, just in time, before Guy had had the chance to touch her. Crisis averted, momentarily, Guy and Marian moved inside.

When they re-entered the house the Sheriff it had seemed had persuaded Sir Edward to accompany them to the Castle. Marian acquiesced with her father's desire for her to come along with him, she didn't want to leave him alone, and yet Marian feared that anymore time spent with the black attired knight 'Guy', would cause her to melt of exhaustion. But Marian had little choice, and so the merry band all rode along to Nottingham Castle.

…

Please Review! (Note the quote is from William Blake 'Auguries of Innocence'. Delight v night, one! WB he's a radical nutter but I though that quote fitted nicely. Even though Blake is 18th century and I don't think Guy would have read poetry! Go with me on that one.)


	23. Chapter 23

AN: This chapter is my last which put this story into the realms of tragedy. Didn't want it to become this tragic, it just sort of happened! After this it's more light-hearted, and fun. – comparatively – ie. Coming next: GuyMarian (early romance-ish) NightwatchmanLambertKilltheKingAnnieRobin. I'm slotting in the 3/ 4 years or so in Nottingham pre Robin's return. & The coming chapters have been jolly fun to write! etc… Hope that has whetted your appetite.

Chapter 23

Guy sat on the edge of his new bed in Nottingham Castle and gazed up at the moon. He had slightly larger quarters than in Belvoir, but the grey stones enclosing the room made it feel more oppressive.

Considering that, he and his master had accomplished what they had set out to do Guy was feeling rather empty – Nottingham was theirs.

Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration; they weren't equals. No, he'd helped Vaizey to realize his dream and Vaizey could be the new Sheriff of Nottingham. Vaizey would rule over the people of Nottinghamshire. He was just another one of those people.

No matter what his master said about rewarding him with land Guy knew it would not change their relationship. He'd made him watch his own legitimate estate burn to the ground, what did that show!? Vaizey was still the 'Head' he was the 'Body'.

The Sheriff had hinted to him early that evening that it had only taken one conversation with Sir Edward, alone, for him to realize the benefits of retirement. And that was it.

…………………

Now that it was morning, the old Sheriff and his only daughter, Marian, were leaving. Officially once they had gone Vaizey would be the new Sheriff.

Vaizey would still need to write to Prince John to tell him of his assumption for it to be _officially_ official, but no one else knew that. For the inhabitants of Nottingham that didn't matter one jot. Vaizey was their new Sheriff and to them it was painfully official; there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The fact that twenty people had already been forced into the Castle's service hinted at something. The new Sheriff didn't look as if he would be as benign a ruler as the late Sheriff, Sir Edward.

Leaning on his elbows at the balcony Guy felt a tinge of pity as he watched him and his daughter preparing to leave. They were being forced to leave, no matter how his master dressed it up, allowing them one final night under the Castle's roof, and making courteous conversation, they were being forced to leave their home and position behind.

Guy knew they had their family home in Knigton, so it wasn't total ruin, but it was sure to be galling, and he knew what it felt like being forced out in less than fortunate circumstances.

In the courtyard below all their belongings were being strapped to the carriage. Guy continued to watch. Marian was handing up her portmanteau to one of the guards. Sir Edward had stepped into the carriage. They would be leaving any minute.

But Guy felt compelled to go down and speak to her.

His head said no; not to associate with them in their moment of disgrace. His heart told him to go down and comfort her. She was as innocent as a rose, delicate, and unused to the cruel world of politics. A moment's consideration and…. His heart won. Guy jogged down the steps.

"My Lady!" he called out, his voice rather hoarse. Once he had Marian's attention he continued,

"I'm sorry," he said being exceptionally frank, no doubt prompted because she was young and pretty.

"I know how - "

But he stopped when he noticed her expression of hatred.

How had he offended her? Damn, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Truth be told, Marian was extremely tempted to hate him on the spot.

Though in fact, thankfully for Guy, he realized she was looking past his shoulder. Guy turned to see the Sheriff fast approaching them.

"Gisborne," the new Sheriff of Nottingham shouted.

Guy turned back to Marian; she offered a half smile before leaping into the carriage to avoid the Sheriff. Marian was wise enough to the feudal system Perhaps she should look at this poor knight as an individual. It remained to be decided, she was ambivalent towards him. He was _trying_ to differentiate himself from his master.

Sir Edward called out of for their carriage to drive on, and at once it the sped into life. Their carriage sped away, and was just nearing the first portcullis out of the inner courtyard when the Sheriff reached Guy's side.

The Sheriff was a foot shorter than his counterpart but nevertheless possessed a grandness of spirit that always made Guy feel small, even when he had to bend his neck to look at him.

"What were you doing? Talking with the pretty one," he jabbed Guy playfully in the ribs.

"They aren't important anymore – no need to socialize with them," the Sheriff said. "At any lengths it's not as if she's going to _put out_ for you."

"My Lord?"

"She wouldn't have you – she's far too principled."

It was startling how well the Sheriff could read him; Guy hoped he wasn't that obvious. Though the Sheriff was probably right, she was too principled to consider him.

Maybe Sir Edward could be prevailed upon to look upon favourably him allowing him to have his daughter, as a sort of compensation…

Anyway, she was still only fifteen it would be more seemly to wait two or three years before beginning to court her.

"Come along, we have to go and celebrate! Power at last," the Sheriff said jubilantly; and somewhat reluctantly Guy followed him into what was to be their new headquarters.

…………………..

An hour or so after the former Sheriff, Sir Edward and his daughter Marian, had driven away, and the feast had all but ended, a dishevelled Robert turned up in Nottingham Castle demanding to see the Sheriff.

Upon being admitted to Sheriff Vaizey, Robert was irritated. His house had been burned down and the stupid page hadn't even directed him to the Sheriff, who he was most anxious to get an explanation from.

"You're not the Sheriff," Robert said pointedly.

"I'm not?" the Sheriff subtly questioned, but Robert took the appearance of denial at face value.

"Where is he?" Robert demanded.

This was the first time that the Sheriff had clapped eyes on Guy's supposed nemesis. Vaizey liked what he saw. Robert was extremely attractive man well into his forties, though he looked like a much younger man, appearing in his early thirties. He also had retained his excellent taste in fashion.

If Guy hadn't set his heart on killing him; The Sheriff would have gladly welcomed him into his household and invited him to say in Castle because to him he looked like a very decent fellow. Vaizey sensed an ally.

He could give him given an important position of power in the county, and gladly. The Sheriff considered his decision for a moment.

Oh well it was not to be, Gisborne never asked for anything, and if _this_ was the necessary and important allowance to keep him steadfastly loyal, the man would have to be sacrificed. Thus it was decided.

"He's just through that door," the Sheriff answered, sending Robert along to meet his death.

Some memorial could be erected in Robert's honour. To lost beauty. The Sheriff liked the idea, and he daydreamed on it for sometime.

……………..

"Oh, for God's sake!" Robert exclaimed as he saw Guy; today it felt as if he was being sent on a wild goose chase.

"Who the hell are you?!" He had no time for patience, or manners right now, Robert wanted an explanation.

"I'm not a bastard!" Guy shouted.

He knew it was childish. But when confronted with this man again Guy unconsciously had turned back into the nine year old boy of yesteryear. Guy hadn't realized until now how desperately he needed and wanted to set Robert straight on this point.

Saying it he cleared away some of the guilt surrounding 'that day'; because when he said all those years ago, to save his life, they had been the last word his father ever heard.

Rewriting that particular wrong, Robert's scorn and confusion only insulted Guy further.

Robert frowned as his eyes adjusted to the darker room.

"Do I know you?"

"You do know me," Guy confirmed. "You bloody do know me."

"Gisborne?" Robert guessed.

"Yes. Remember now?" Guy sneered, advancing on Robert and backing him into the corner of the room.

It was all this man's fault. He had dreamed of having him here since that day. Bitterness was consuming Guy; here was the man who had caused all his life's pain and misery. He slashed his curved blade across Robert face, causing him to drop his dagger, which Robert had been surreptitiously pulling from his belt, and sent it clattering along the floor. He would not be bested this time.

In the following silence Robert seemed to realize what Gisborne was about to do.

"Pl_eas_e," he rasped pleading marked in his voice. Begging.

Guy couldn't stand to hear his voice again, how dare he make him pity him. He couldn't spare him.

Dilated pupils and red; Guy thrust his curved dagger straight into Robert's neck. Blood spattered onto his face and spilled over his gloves.

Guy didn't care though, and pulled the dagger out of Robert's windpipe to stab it in again, and again, and again.

Even after a couple of minutes the mad hysteria passed. However, unfortunately the murder would not bring back the years. The hacked body of Robert slumped in a corner showed him his own brutality, and in a pool of that enemies' blood Guy began to cry uncontrollably.

…

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	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

After Guy had cleaned himself up it was very dark. He'd spend the last couple of hours washing Robert's blood off, and he wasn't in the best of mindsets. So, knocked on when a guard knocked on his door to tell him that the Sheriff wanted to speak to him, Guy really didn't want to leave his room.

This was turning out to be a long day. Guy hoped this wasn't to be the template for his life in Nottingham Castle. Without a choice he stalked through the still unfamiliar corridors to get to the Sheriff's rooms.

"Now I'll give you give control of the Locksley estate. Does that satisfy you? … It's close to the Castle so if I summon you, you can be back here within half an hour. The Locksley's have died out, save their son Robin, but he's off fighting the in the Crusades, so he might never come back, fingers crossed, eh?" Vaizey said with a smile.

"Look upon it as your reward…. and Gisborne, you must remember to show the peasants who's in charge from now on. I'm trusting you with this," the Sheriff told him.

"Yes, my Lord," Guy promised solemnly.

The Sheriff was single minded but he was always successful. Consciously Guy vowed to be more like that on his newly acquired estate. He was determined not to fail in this; by following the Sheriff example he would retain the estate.

………………………

In the following years Guy saw Sir Edward and Marian rarely. The Sheriff had a lot of dirty work that needed doing and he was kept very busy. So much so that he rarely spent more than two nights together in Locksley before new summons came from the Sheriff.

Edward and Marian never came to the Castle, and though Knigton was only a couple of miles from Locksley, Guy did not visit them at home, nor did he have a good enough reason to. Or that wasn't until he heard of Marian illness.

All of a sudden Guy wanted to visit her, it was a strange desire but he wanted to.

After a week, and no news of how she faired, Guy with courage and a spare hour rode to Knigton Hall to see her. Being admitted to Marian's room was like being ushered close to her deathbed. The girl was sickly pale and at the same time sweat clung to her brow; she was in the grip of a fever. All her beauty was fading and it was such a pity.

Sir Edward said that a physician had come earlier and leeched her which gave Guy some comfort. However, the prospect of Edward calling a priest, in a few days, he said, if she did not rally, to perform the last rites was looking evermore likely.

He sat down by her bedside and watched her for any sign of improvement. If staring could have cured her, Marian would have been, but for all the good Guy did, it did gave him time to reflect.

She was the prettiest girl in the entire county. He was craving companionship. A wife, he realized would be the very thing.

Marian, though he hardly knew her, if she recovered, would be the perfect age, and nearing full bloom she would be able to provide him with many children. That aside Marian was different she had ignited his interest on the first day, and yet he had let her be for two years.

This much restraint, convinced him that he was in love with her. What man would self consciously deny himself something that he wanted, particularly if it was a woman, without reason?

Abruptly a girl from the village came in to give Marian a compress for her head, in a vain attempt to soothe and cool her down. She did indeed look close to death. This pulled Guy back to reality the idealism of having a 'Marian' was slipping away from him.

The windows in her rooms were wide open letting in the fresh air, and at the same time Marian was tucked up tight in her bed with many blankets.

She stirred and the girl from Knigton guided a cup of water to her mouth. Keeping Marian hydrated was essential right now if they were not to loose her to the fever. Guy was much struck by how weak she was and soon took his leave.

It was hard to remain with the sick for long and no doubt her father wanted to be by her side. But Guy couldn't help thinking about Marian relentlessly. He found himself praying each night that she might be sparred. She had a life to lead.

Three days later Guy decided to visit again, he brought a little gift with him, hoping that she would be alive to receive it. It wouldn't bear thinking about if she died.

At Knigton Hall Sir Edward greeted him cordially; an awkwardness between them still existed, but Edward was pleased some man was taking an interest in his daughter's welfare. Now, that his daughter was back almost certainly from the verge of death, it wasn't a bad thing to be thinking of her future.

Guy went upstairs and found Marian closeted with the Priest. They were only talking, nothing morbid was happening, and she looked a lot better, which gladdened his heart. He sighed in relief.

The Priest turned around and at the sigh and took his arrival to be his cue to leave. He took Marian's hands within his own and bid her a speedy recovery.

"I'll pray for you, and no doubt even see you in the pews on Sunday…" he said in his gentle way, and left the room.

Guy and Marian were left alone. Guy took the seat just vacated by the Priest and said,

"I'm glad to see you looking better," in his abrupt way.

Right… lovely. Marian knew there wasn't anything to say, and simply inclined her head. She was still very weak and tired from the illness; that would be her excuse for silence.

Guy took out his present.

"I took the liberty of bringing you this…" he said handing over one of the Sheriff's finest jars of raspberry jam.

"I thought it would help you regain your strength…"

Marian accepted it silently. It really was a charming gift, and it was indeed a luxury to have at this time of the year.

"Oh, yes - thank you very much," she said a trifle belatedly.

No other single men had visited Marian at her bedside, or given her any gifts. Marian reflected that she was now eighteen, prime marriageable age; there could be no mistaking Guy's purpose.

Her realization made her make a groan of anguish, and Marian flopped back onto her pillows, closing her eyes.

The courting had begun.

Guy, concerned that she had fainted started floundering.

"Marian? Marian?" he said touching his hand to her forehead. She was very warm to his touch.

At his presumption Marian opened her eyes.

"Are you unwell again? Shall I call for the Physician?" Guy stuttered.

Marian smiled; she thought he was going to have a fit of the hysterics.

"I think I just need to rest," Marian said evenly, trying not to smile.

"I understand," Guy said indulgently and then left, much to her pleasure. Though Marian knew he would be back.

For more worldly-wise women Marian supposed Guy could be a source of entertainment. Her father would never force her to marry him, if she was against the match. There was nothing to worry about; All noble women had flirtations, one could… But Marian couldn't go against her nature, Robin or marriage would the only way. Lying didn't sit well with the principles.

..

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	25. Chapter 25

This chapter, its Marian mainly, hope it's not too boring. I think explaining had to go a bit more in depth with the Nightwatchman. Marian's POV I've done this because it makes it more fun to swip and swap about!! I love Marian. Read all about the Nightwatchman's early exploits, they start small but build! Part 2 of this chapter is 26 these two are sort of linked – Nightwatchman stuff. So that'll be good – Enjoy!

Chapter 25

After Marian's recovery she decided something must be done, the girl who had cared for her let slip that her own mother was sick; and out of gratitude, Marian gave the girl the remains of her medicine to take for her mother.

Her family's reaction, and shock at her throwaway act of kindness kindled Marian's concern, and called her to her purpose. In fact the more she looked; Marian saw that her girls evident need of help with even basic food and now, medicine. Marian realized this scarcity could be factored out on the whole county.

She realized someone needed to help these people on a regular basis, if the Sheriff wouldn't help and he was certainly not, who else was there but herself.

Marian reckoned she was capable enough, she knew the villages, had the resources. Who was more ideally place than she, apart from the Sheriff, to help people? It was down to her. Not to say, there was pitiful else to do, and Marian was a girl who like to be up and doing. Taking ones rest could be so tiresome.

The problem was she couldn't be recognised, with the Sheriff's iron command what it was it wouldn't be terribly wise to go making herself anti everything he stood for. A disguise of some sort: that was the way. So Marian, excited with her new idea, raided her wardrobe for something suitable.

She found an old dress; it could easily be sewn into trousers, and a scrap of leather could be made into a mask. Two days later, outfit complete Marian tried on her costume and admired her handiwork in the mirror. She tucked up her hair into her hooded cloak, and started into the mirror. She could hardly recognise herself. Marian giggled in her head, it was perfect.

Then it was time to go, she was about to go out on her first round. Marian halted at the window sill, did she want to go? Really, it was a bit nerve racking considering what she was about to do. Also, the fear surrounding not telling her father was unnerving Marian. Though at best he would worry, if not protest and forbid her to go.

Marian did want to go, and resolved upon it. A quick breath and she crossed herself for luck. Her guardian angel would protect her. Her father would not check her bedroom. Wolves would not eat her. She wouldn't be raped, or kidnapped by drunken men.

Thus Marian sneaked out of the house and crept around to the stables gathered her horse and rode of towards Locksley, with her parcels of medicine, food and money.

The money would enable each family to buy meat, or else ease the burden given by the extortionate taxes. It seemed the Sheriff raised the monthly tax levy month on month as a matter of course.

The moonlight guided her night escapade and by the time was dismounting in Locksley. Marian had lost all her nerves. In fact, placing her bundles at the foot of each doorstep gave her a sense of exhilaration and freedom, and an enormous sense of satisfaction. Riding back home, the pitch black night had lost all of its previous terror.

She had never been out late at night alone before, and tonight had shown her that it was perfectly safe and liberating to be thus following her heart.

With her task completed Marian was able to get into bed shortly after two o'clock. Aglow with her sense of achievement she slept deep and peacefully that night.

However, the buzz eventually wore off, and a week later though still pleased Marian knew that her act would still amount to nothing if the villagers were left to continue to cope alone. Her anonymity was intact, the disguise had been brilliant. Her father had no idea of her activities and there was nothing to fear from the people even if she should be spotted.

As a girl she and Robin had grown up alongside these villagers and she knew them to be hearty and kind-hearted people. It was time to ride again. Though this time encouraged by her reflections, Marian decided that she should repeat these good acts over a wider area.

Emboldened that night Marian rode to Nettlestone and four days later to Clun, subsequently to Bonchurch. By the end of her first month, her sustained efforts soon gained her a reputation. The population were calling her the 'Nightwatchman'.

With her newly acquired mysterious persona, Marian was keen to go out even more and even now into the heart of the city of Nottingham. Obviously, she helped the people of Knigton too, but it was in her own village that she was the most guarded.

Marian always brought food though money all the time was trickier, as she had to answer to her father for any extra money she needed, Marian didn't want to be always be asking him. However, the money she was given every month she donated freely. Marian wasn't obsessed with buying new dresses and economising was something she did not mind.

After her own village, Knigton, Marian had the greatest affection for Locksley and its people. And with Robin gone she felt acutely that it was her duty to care for them. Not only that the people of Locksley had an even worse a time of it.

The Sheriff's taxes were getting steadily insupportable and were hitting everyone, the majority were suffering deprivations, though not as much as the villagers of Locksley. The tax mandate was being increased _again_ for this quarter and Guy's estate had just been given the honour of producing the flour for the Castle.

In reality it meant that almost all of the village's flour produced in the mill was requisitioned for the Castle, and therefore, there was barely any left for the villagers to make their own bread. It was daylight robbery and Marian had challenged Guy on this.

Yet he said that nothing could be done. She knew that Guy was a hard master, and she secretly felt he was harder on the people of Locksley because they used to be Robin's.

Though, that was stupid, how could the man be jealous of her girlhood fiancé? It irritated her as it made her think of Robin more and reminded her of her own approaching entrapment. Why was her father suddenly praising Guy to her? In fact, it _was_ only yesterday, when he said along the lines of did she not think that Sir Guy was a very comely knight! What did that have to do with anything, since when did looks gainsay sin!

Marian thought of Guy now, though she was not in the habit of doing so. He had not mellowed over the last couple years him. In fact, since the day, over two years ago when he had first came on her house, Marian thought that Guy seemed to be getting worse. More murders were laid at his door. He was seemed in fact to be wholly in line with the Sheriff. Her once benevolent opinion was looking as if it had better be revised rather soon if things continued as they did.

In her mind he was fully establishing himself as part of the system; determined to beat the peasants down because it suited his own and the Sheriff's interests. Marian knew that though the common folk were poor, it didn't make them a species apart, and neither could she stand by and watch their sufferings. They needed kindness as much as any man of property.

And with her mind made up Marian sat in her room impatiently awaiting the darkness before she could set of for Locksley.

The night air was very cold but Marian was not put off masked and hooded as usual she cantered towards the village. The cloud cover did not help tonight as it obscured the moon and gave a gloomy feeling, though she tried not to let it get to her.

Marian was not a girl to believe in premonitions. The night boded no ill for her.

Once about her work, Marian let the feelings of excitement overtake her. She placed her parcels on each doorstep and at the same time took in the general state of the houses. The thatch on many of the cottages was thinning and mouldy in places.

She had let her guard down without meaning and slipped into her old role as the Sheriff's daughter. In Knigton, her father gave money to his tenants so they could fix repairs.

Guy was not of that mind, or he didn't take an interest. Marian was inclined to believe the latter, and marked it up to weave it into conversation the next time she saw him.

Whereas, Guy upstairs staring out his bedroom window unable to sleep, was similarly thinking of when he could she Marian next, and also how he could make a good impression. Silently watching over his village Guy noticed a strange movement.

Now fully alert and keenly looking Guy saw a flash of cloak, and a masked man darting up between one of the houses. It looked suspicious. So, he grabbed his broad sword and dashed downstairs, expecting a fight.

Marian was at the back of the village still inspecting the property and didn't hear him coming. Luckily for her, he shouted.

"I know you're here!"

Marian jumped; she had been right to expect something earlier on. She peered around the side of the cottage and saw Guy in the middle of the village sword outstretched, scanning wildly, yearning for a fight.

"Reveal yourself! Come out… you're a Coward!" Guy shouted.

Well I'm not stupid. She thought it was pretty dense of him to announce his presence like that. Though, it meant she could escape silently away.

Marian wasted no time in slipping away, finding her horse and she quickly spurred off into a gallop. Guy arrived on the scene, only to see his suspicious visitor's dust sweeping out telling me of the man's escape. Cursing the intruder, Guy limped back into the house, sword arm still twitching with annoyance.

Back at home after a fairly panicky ride Marian slipped into her nightdress, she was still thinking about her encounter with Guy. Luckily he hadn't time to give chase, but Marian in a moment of calm, thought that it wouldn't stop her going out. She vowed to simply be more careful.

Surely when Guy found out that she had only been bringing parcels of food, he would not purposefully attack her. Though why had he shouted out?

He had been so exposed in the village, if she had had a bow she could have easily have killed him. He had earned her derision; he was obviously a knight of the old school, more suited to hand-to-hand fighting.

The bow had been used in warfare for over a hundred years and couldn't help but think how vulnerable he had allowed himself to be. Maybe there was another side to him. Certainly he was brave, foolishly so, and yet it couldn't be denied she was stirred by him. It was all so confusing.

The next morning in Nottingham Castle

"My Lord there is a man the villagers call the 'Nightwatchman'. He is handing out parcels of food to the peasants and is undermining my authority, especially in Locksley."

"Yes, what do you want me to do about it?" the Sheriff asked

"I'd like permission to say in Locksley this week, and hopefully catch the man at night."

"Yes, of course. I don't know why you're asking me. He must be strung up," the Sheriff agreed.

If only it was as simple as that.

Guy was to have a week off, and hopefully the simple plan would be successful. Guy only made one mistake that of boasting of his plan to Marian during in the week, and she wisely stayed away.

Guy was very annoyed; he'd wasted a whole week. Perhaps the Nightwatchman really was a coward or had simply given up the do-good-ing. Guy didn't even consider Marian; that he'd told her. The irony of this was not lost on Marian her 'friendship' gave her forewarning of this plan and most future plans of Guy and the Sheriff's plans to catch the Nightwatchman.

But the warning had illustrated again her need for caution. Though perpetual vigilance was irritating Marian decided that she would simply have to vary her outings, so they did not fall into a traceable pattern. That was all she could do.

At least she and her father were engaged to go down to London for the next couple of months, as they had been invited to her cousin's wedding, and that meant no Nightwatchman escapades for a longer period. The danger would be as limited as ever by the time she got back. Boring, even Marian reflected in a reckless moment.

No it wasn't that really Marian was a trifle bitter that she would have to watch her cousin, little more than six months older than herself be wed. It would prompt discussion on her own maidenhood. Why couldn't Robin just come home?

….

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	26. Chapter 26

AN: Lambert is dealt with briefly. Not my best writing. But it's just meant to be the set up 'scene we didn't see' etc… before that episode where events are concluded. Hope this satisfies you. Really, this chapter is truly focusing on the first Guy/Nightwatchman encounter! Mucho exciting!! R&R Please (3

Chapter 26

A few months later, when Marian was out of the county, Guy received a letter completely out of the blue. It was from Joseph Lambert, his old childhood friend. Guy did still on occasion wonder what had become of Lambert, and many years ago missed his friend bitterly.

Lambert, it appeared, was now keen to re-establish the friendship. He explained that coming to hear of Guy's name in and connected with Nottingham, was how he came to write.

The letter explained that his friend had followed a path in Science, and after a trip to the East, he had been developing a highly explosive powder. He was also proposing that Guy come to visit him in Derby to see his work.

Guy wrote back saying he would come. If he set of early he could be back before nightfall. If he was gone for only a day there would be nothing the Sheriff could do. A scold and long lecture the next morning would be nothing compared to the rigmarole of asking his approval.

Guy was, in this respect a true introvert, without his master's presence Guy was often very decisive in his own head. He did not need outward reassurance of people to realize what he wanted, or to confirm that his ideas were good.

His isolation prompted this self reliance. It was only in conferring with the Sheriff or being around him which made Guy doubt his competence, and so was tricked into intellectual dependence on the older man most of the time.

…………………….

Some weeks later arriving at his friend's humble abode in Derby, Guy's lungs were immediately assaulted by smoke evidently the product of some recent experiment.

He went into the small house to stand by the fireplace to wait. Then in less than a minute Lambert's very angular face popped up alongside the hearth. Guy jerked into consciousness, and blinked unable to take in the new Lambert that was in front of him, who he had not seen for so many years. It had to be nigh on twenty!

Taking in his appearance Guy was startled; his old friend always had looked rather odd, but now he had grown up, he looked odder still. Retaining his childlike face Lambert's eyes bulged and eyebrows had grown at such an angle giving his face a look of permanent surprise.

"Guy, it's great to see you," Lambert beamed in his creaky voice, breaking the staring contest first.

"And I you," Guy said with a true smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lambert was surveying his guest likewise, he had been used to Guy, the adventurous child of his youth, whereas, Guy the man, standing before him had obviously done _a lot_ of growing up. He was more withdrawn and introverted that Lambert had expected; Care and strife were almost audibly etched on his face. Still, Lambert was pleased to see him. For many years Joseph thought him to be dead.

"So what have you been doing all these years?" Lambert said grinning.

"As you see, I've been working on my 'Greek fire', but more about that later," Lambert said offhandedly.

Just because Lambert desperately needed funding for his experimental work and didn't want Guy to think he'd only invite him over to spend his money. He steered the conversation away from himself, and genuinely did Joseph wanted to know what his old friend was about now.

"So," Lambert quizzed, "are you married?" It seemed a good enough question to begin with.

"No," Guy said deliberately but the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.

"So there _is_ someone?"

Guy didn't say anything; he didn't want to gossip about Marian with a stranger. Well perhaps not until they were better reacquainted. Now, the idea of Marian had been planted in his head he couldn't get rid of it. She was so hot, or maybe it was just the stuffy room that provoked the thought.

Presently Lambert took him on a tour of his workshop, and proudly showed him his ledger, which was his life's work. It was all written in French so Guy did glean anything from about this most subtle of sciences; though he well believed Lambert's illusions to its power, and though it all very interesting.

When Lambert finally came to ask for financial help, Guy was in a good mood and readily agreed.

"Would you stay the night? I can promise a good meal and a warm bed…" Joseph encouraged.

It was a shame that Guy gave the impression of reluctance; it would have been better if they could have reacquainted more thoroughly.

"No. Sorry, I can't stay. I have to get back. I should go." Guy edged towards the door. It would be a long homeward ride, even if he didn't edge way now. Right now it was almost dusk, and the way would be unfamiliar, not to mention clouded after six pints by ale.

"I hope it all goes well with your Lady!" Lambert said jovially, as they both stepped out into the cold night air.

"Thank-you!" Guy grinned sheepishly and jumped on to his horse.

Both men left feeling very good about themselves; the day had been very good. Guy reaffirmed his promises to send money each month to help fund his experiments and research led lifestyle. Lambert confirmed to promise to come Nottingham when he had completed his research and give Guy three barrels as token of appreciation.

Secretly, Guy hoped the Sheriff would be proud of him for gaining a contact that was developing something so useful. Hopefully his friend's skill would open doors for him.

…….……………

Marian had returned from London, and as she had predicted the gathering had been hellish. She was made to feel like and old maid. Her younger cousin had been married off, and her older cousin was pregnant with her third child. It was a whirlwind of family, and women, and husbands, and betrothals, enough to turn ones head.

Was there no escaping all these signs? Her father, along with the wedding guests had been continually suggesting that she might want to settle down soon. AAA!!

So, all in all Marian was very glad to be back in Nottingham, to the peace and where she was keen to get back out doing something useful, as her alter ego, the Nightwatchman. It was very wintry night but Marian was determined to get back into her role and to be out serving the community as soon as possible.

Tonight Marian set off early; the evenings darkened early enough that it made it possible for her to go undetected, and be back home to have a full nights sleep. Which was a good thing, Marian wasn't really a morning person.

Very quickly she had accomplished her task Marian was riding home. All the villagers of Nettlestone would be well fed, which was good, but thinking of her father, he hadn't eaten so well at the wedding feast, he was getting older. It was such sad thoughts that made Marian pause, her wise guardian; he couldn't leave her all alone… Continuing with her father, it was perhaps just a warning that he should take things more slowly. Oh, but how time had past so quickly for him; what did the future hold for him. And for her?

It was chiming eight o'clock; Marian could hear the church bell from Knigton Chapel she sighed and inches from her house she crept around the back of the house and stables. There Marian was planning on slipping in through the servant's entrance. However, that idea came to nothing when she was most unfortunately spotted.

It was Guy.

He happened to be ridding through Knigton on his way back from Derby and he spotted her, or rather Guy saw the Nightwatchman, turned burglar, just as he was about to break into Knigton Hall. Instantly, he was on the offensive.

Not only had he been dying to catch the man, his mystery, success and popularity were all insults directed at him, but he felt protective; Marian was inside Knigton Hall, and he needed to keep her safe from this low life.

Marian darted behind the house, but there was no escape, she was her costume, she couldn't speak out and end the game, neither could she be found out. That was imperative. Yet the real dilemma was that Marian couldn't enter the house with him watching, and he _had_ seen her; clear as day. There was no escape.

Confirming her fear that he had seen her Guy rounded the corner, on horseback. They stood looking at each other.

"Nightwatchman!" he growled.

Neither could she make a run for it. Guy was already unsheathing his sword. Running meant exposing her back, to flee would mean being cut down. Marian stood with her back to the house and surreptitiously scanned the ground for a weapon, she had to defend herself. There was a fair sized rock a meter away and a plan formed in her mind.

Marian put her hands up, in a mock surrender. Guy looked triumphant; he had single-handedly caught the Nightwatchman. He was just thinking of the best way to arrest the man when his captive gestured his hands towards him in an arrogant 'come on'.

Incensed, Guy spurred his horse straight at her, intending to run the Nightwatchman though. Justice would be swift.

Marian, having provoked him into doing what she wanted, was nevertheless petrified. Instinct was telling her to jump aside from the oncoming horse. But she knew she had to stay put until the crucial moment. Her feet remained glued to the spot and she was shaking out of fear.

Guy's face was contorted in concentration and his sword was poised riding straight at his target.

It took all of Marian's willpower not to scream out. Seconds eked into what felt like hours, and yet in that crucial split of a second, Marian ducked away from the blade, and grabbed the rock.

Guy violently pulled his horse around to avoid crashing straight into the wall of her house. In his manoeuvring was her chance. Without conscience, but out of blind fear Marian lobbed the rock at his head.

The rock collided squarely with the side of Guy's head, making a sickening crack as it found its target. Guy fell forward and almost off his horse. He slumped lifelessly over his horse's neck. He looked dead, but Marian couldn't waste time. Without a moment to lose Marian frantically ran into the house, and bolted up the stairs to her room.

She immediately ripped of her Nightwatchman's outfit in a mad panic, and in her haste pulled off a string of buttons. Quickly she bundled the clothes under her bed, pulled on the first dress that came to hand, and let down her hair, fluffed it, before running down the stairs to sit with her father.

"Are you alright, Marian?" her father asked as she entered. He couldn't help mistake the faraway look in her eyes, or the flush on her checks.

"I am fine," she said half to her father, half for her own benefit.

Trying to compose herself Marian settled herself on her chair and picked up her sewing. She breathed a long sigh, one which she had been holding in for the last minutes, and sat back on her chair. Until the inevitable knock on the door came.

Sir Edward encouraged her to get the door for him, could hardly refuse which regretfully met seeing him sooner. At least she was ready; nothing in her appearance would give her away, Marian hoped. Her face, to her, still felt ridiculously red.

With another deep breath Marian carefully opened the door. The fake smile she had put on instantly dropped when she saw him. Not only was Guy standing at the front door ashen faced. Dark crimson could be seen clotting his black hair and a line of blood trickling down the side of his face.

He didn't look well at all inwardly; his pride had taken a blow And his feelings registered obviously on his face. Even though there was no one there to see him fall from grace, it hurt.

Marian gasped and was horrified; she had done this!

"Guy!" she gasped. "What happened?!" It was all she could say to stop 'I'm so sorry' spilling out.

"It's nothing, a scratch. Could you..?" Guy gestured at his head. Talking, looked like an effort for Guy right now, she could sense a brood coming on, and could well understand. Marian was only too happy to see to the injury.

She pulled him into the well lit room and went to fetch a basin of water and cloth, and then thinking about it, a needle and thread, just in case. Marian had never felt so guilty in all her life. Her own survival was important, but looking at Guy she knew that its cost had been causing him pain.

Sir Edward was curious when Guy was brought in. Naturally he wanted to know what had truly happened. He had heard the commotion outside, and Marian entered so very soon afterwards, was there a link? He did not know.

"What happened?" Sir Edward addressed Guy with his usual quiet dignity.

"The Nightwatchman!" Guy said in a menacingly quiet voice. "He was sulking around here – do you need extra protection? I mean if I hadn't been riding past…" Guy trailed off. The unknown was better left unsaid.

Sir Edward wondered. Then as Marian came back into the room he said to her,

"It was the Nightwatchman, Marian." For some reason Marian didn't make eye contact and merely said 'Oh'. Though Edward could not believe his daughter had anything to do with it really, he put aside his momentary suspicion.

Marian set the basin on the table and Sir Edward said something about seeing the housekeeper. If it brought them together; were would be the harm? God knew he wouldn't be able to care for her forever.

Marian started cleaning the wound carefully. It was, in fact, a very nasty wound, but she felt that once the blood had been cleared away it wouldn't look so bad, and stitching would probably be unnecessary.

Guy, sitting on the edge of the table with his head tilted upwards, was surprised at the extent of Marian's concern. She seemed very keen to tend his wound. The initial embarrassment at being struck by the Nightwatchman, and then having to ask for help at Knigton Hall, seemed to melt away she continued to touch him.

Marian was kind and attentive, it made Guy wonder if this is what she would be like if they were married… Although, in an ideal world, being attacked less frequently for this sort of treatment to happen.

The wound having been cleaned still stung clearly but Guy bit back the pain, he didn't want to appear weaker tonight that he already had. Marian was so lovely and he started up into her face, because she was still hovering at his eye line.

Marian noticed, and at once she adopted her stony face of silent disapproval. Soon she was finished, and by this time Guy was able to ride home. Marian was totally composed to give Guy a cold and formal farewell.

Ridding home Guy was much cheered by Marian behaviour. There was reason to hope. Potentially a new wife and a new friend all in one day. For once, things could only get better, he reasoned.

…

Any thoughts ?


	27. Chapter 27

AN: no reviews, I'm guessing y'all want this over asap. So I'm just moving it all along. Chapter is tip-bits really, But the next one is action in the Holy Land fun, fun, fun. You know there's only 2 chapters left - will you be sad when it's over?? : )

On that note, Suggestions on what you'd want me to do next – short though… I'm thinking of doing a scene from series 3, I've one in mind. Robin & Guy, sound good? My silent, yet faithful readers! Anything not done in this, I can be persuaded I might add write, and post in way of 'extra scene' from, I'd mention you of course!!

Chapter 27

The rain verily poured down soaking Guy as he was riding back to the Castle. His leather coat was tightly up and despite its waterproof it didn't stop the chill taking root in his bones. Rain plastered his face and his hair, was as wet as if he'd washed it.

Riding into the courtyard at a gallop he dismounted quickly, handed his bridle over to the stable hand, and ran inside the Castle, out of the rain.

Guy had to go to and report to the Sheriff, as it was twelve o'clock at which time it was the Sheriff's custom to give him his orders. Heading straight there without delay Guy barged into his master's warm well lit room to shed his coat. Guy stood dripping wet, wiped his face, and with his back to the fire turned to face the Sheriff.

The Sheriff gave him a critical look over and decided that he couldn't talk to him because he was making him feel cold. Vaizey threw him a cloth.

"Dry yourself up, and your hair," he commanded.

Piqued, Guy said before he could stop himself,

"Am I so disagreeable?" Guy said in a sarcastic tone, referring to his appearance.

Though he should have known better than to spar with the Sheriff.

"No Guy, you're always disagreeable to me," Vaizey quipped.

With the repartees finished. The Sheriff lapsed back into silence, which was unlike him. Over the past weeks the Sheriff had been sending and receiving lots of letters from important unknown nobles. Guy just knew something was being planned.

Guy was still annoyed, and he continued to towel his hair dry angrily to let out the frustration. When the Sheriff turned against him he knew he was literally alone.

He was waiting. He knew the Sheriff would have to tell him at some point; no doubt it would involve him. The Sheriff talked almost continually and it was hard to know when he was saying anything important. Silence, therefore, had to mean something important.

Still waiting, his clothes fully dried by the heat of the fire now, silence remained. The Sheriff obviously wasn't going to tell him what was on him mind yet. A menial order came at last though, real business could wait till later, Vaizey decided. For there was something heavy playing on his mind.

"Gisborne," the Sheriff ordered suddenly

"Go and drill the guards we have a new appointment arriving today."

"Oh really. Who, My Lord?" Guy inquired curiously.

The sudden order Guy prompted to be reactionary, asking the question spontaneously, which he probably shouldn't ask. It didn't feel as if the Sheriff was in a benevolent mood to allow impertinence, and impertinence in Vaizey book included talking whenever he wanted silence, or asking stupid questions.

"Ah, he's to be our new Master of Arms. It's about time we replaced that corpulent oaf Smyth. De Fourtnoy, that's his name, is coming from Syria. They say he's _very_ good."

Surely the Sheriff was just taunting him now. He had to have know that he had been wanting the Master of Arms position as long as they had been in Nottingham.

"Anyway, he will be arriving shortly, so go and make sure the Castle is looking spic and span. We must have competent souls to be in command and take charge, don't you know. So, off with you."

"I rather thought you might… chose someone, rather you might think I was…" Guy basically whispered.

"Oh for God's sake! There's no need to go from bad to worse. Get on with your drill, Gisborne."

And so he went.

……………….

Later that evening Guy expected another tiresome one. The Sheriff didn't even need his company he could have the conversation with himself just as easily if he wasn't there. He retreated to the corner to sit down and wait till he was instructed to leave.

"We both know Prince John would make a much better King than his brother. For starters he'd be _here_, instead of dancing to the Pope's tune!" the Sheriff passionately asserted.

"Noble as the Crusades are," Vaizey added as a side note lest the imaginary audience think him unpatriotic.

"We'd be doing Prince John _and_ England a service. Lord knows John's only waiting to let the Muslims do it!"

Guy really had no idea what the Sheriff was witterring on about. He'd stopped really listening about twenty minutes ago, and was well used to the Sheriff talking as if he was addressing the whole world.

"He'll be King and will reward me most generously. Which is why, you're going to the Holy Land to kill him for me."

Guy spluttered. "Who me?" he asked in shock.

He knew when Vaizey had truly ordered something. He had been going on about King Richard in a general way, and now he was being ordered to travel all the way to the Holy Land! To commit regicide!

"Yes," the Sheriff said pensively.

"As incredulous as that sounds. You are going to do this. I want _you_ to do it so, you can report authoritatively back to me on its success - if you cannot stomach the act itself get some heathen to do it. Only watch the completion of it, Gisborne. This needs to be done properly or not at all."

"I'll do it!" Guy said indignantly. He was insulted at the suggestion he might not be able to stomach it.

"Good," thus concluding the plotting.

"Oh, one more thing. Now as much as it pains me to say this," Vaizey said deliberately.

"You_ must_ come back within three months. This is top secret and your absence must not arouse suspicion!"

And with his Guy was dismissed for the night. That was one way of depriving a person of sleep; announcing that they must travel two thousand miles away to kill their own King without betraying any suspicion, and keeping to time.

In bed mulling over how it could be achieved Guy thought carefully. Due to the time restriction and the need for secrecy a well formed alibi was needed. Guy that the most plausible excuse for prolonged absence was family, not that he knew much about that. Spreading the idea that he was going out of the county to visit relatives in Lincolnshire wouldn't be hard.

That was the easy part, but it couldn't cover the whole three months he would be away for, Guy reasoned. Two months could be, he was sure, could be accounted for in this way. The next couple of weeks would have to be explained away with a period of illness.

………………..

The next morning in the city Guy went to the house of the Castle physician, Pitts. He was going to convince the man to help him create an alibi that should account for some two weeks.

The idea was simple, he would be ill, confined to his bed, the physician would come each day to 'tend' to him, and eat the meal the servants provided, to keep up the illusion of his sickness, and leave the tray outside.

It could work as long as the physician played his part well.

Also, Guy was worrying about his own journey. He only had three months to travel to the Holy Land and to return. It could take anywhere between a month and a half to get there, which meant he'd likely only have one attempt before he would have to come back. Putting these considerations out of his mind for the minute Guy knocked on the physician's door, and went in presently.

He explained to Pitts that he was going to London on business, for a few weeks, and that it must remain secret.

"I can rely upon you?" Guy asked threateningly.

"Yes, sir," and the wiry little doctor had no intention of disappointing such a dangerous man.

Guy gave him a killer stare before leaving the house, just to make sure. Guy was reasonably satisfied that the man would do his duty by him. But there was no time to lose there were other preparations that needed to be made.

The only irksome thing was that De Fourtroy would have time to settle into his position while he was away. Damn. And he wouldn't be able to say Goodbye properly to Marian. Everyone must think he was only going away for a short visit in Lincolnshire. Damn it to hell!

Well, at any lengths Guy hoped she would miss him, time would soften her, and then perhaps they could do something in way of a 'welcome home' celebration…


	28. Chapter 28

AN: 2nd to last chapter. 1 to go! I've tried to make this interesting (the actual journey) ie. A holiday romance, hahaha not really. And French prejudice!

Joking aside, Robin and the events in the Holy Land are very important. If Robin hadn't been stabbed he wouldn't have travelled back to England, thus disrupting Marian and Guy's life.

Chapter 28

The ship was on its way to the Holy Land plotting its way through the rough seas. On board, the high winds which had buffeted their ship since Marseilles, were confining all passengers to their cabins. The long very tedious journey was only segmented by violent busts of seasickness, which everyone, apart from the sailors, had come down with.

In lieu of the terrible food, the fleas and the rats, which were positively thriving below decks, and having to deal with perpetually seasickness; all in all it was not a pleasant journey.

Guy had been in the same clothes longer than he cared to remember; reflecting that being sent to the Holy Land to commit regicide had not dictated a luxury mission as one might have thought.

Not to mention his fellow passages.

Guy was having to put up with both English and French knights heading for the Crusades. And to Guy they were hell as own annoying.

The knights heading for the Crusades were zealous and keen to start killing, not only did they imagine the excitement of battle that awaited them, but seeing exotic new places, and the Holiest City on earth, Jerusalem. The instant martyrdom that was assured for anyone who was killed killing God's enemies in the Holy Land put everyone in a positive frame of mind, all sins forgiven!

Not to mention the excitement to anticipation being alongside such a fine leader as King Richard, who could doubt their success and defeat of the infidels!

The Crusaders on board had only their mission on their minds, naturally, assumed that Guy was heading for travelling forth to the Holy Land with the same pride, patriotism, bloodlust, loyalty and out of sheer willingness to follow Richard on the noblest of Crusades.

Friendly and drunk, many of the English knights at firsts flocked to befriend and talk to Guy, their companion on the sea for the next six weeks. It was best to get along.

But Guy was not a silver-tongued liar. He could utter a falsehood, in the form of a flat denial, contrary to the truth, but he neither had the skill nor will to perpetually lie and invent an entire story to fit in.

Guy, it seemed to the men, highhandedly refused to reveal his plans, or talk about the Holy Sepulchre, or enthusiastically agree on how beastly Saladin was, or show any enthusiasm for the King and Crusade. Thus he quickly ostracized himself from the group.

It was like travelling with the King's personal fan club and Guy was not disappointed to be out of their company. Their enthusiasm and admiration for the man sickened him. Brooding later Guy came to realize that he'd be glad to get to the Holy Land only to kill the King; so he would never have to put up with such chatter again, and from grown men!

Though there was one boy of sixteen, squire to the Count of Provence, who was keen to start his own fan club… hero-worshiping none other than him. Which was making the journey interesting; never had Guy been admired or looked up to in this way.

Edwin had tight curly brown hair, and stared at him, like he was a precious metal, a wonder to behold. Edwin admired his strength and wondered at his secrecy. The boy freely offered respect and honest admiration believing Guy to be a very worthy knight.

"Can I serve you, my Lord?" he would ask at least five times each day.

After a week of cruel rebuffs, Guy took pity; the boys' resilience and devotion made Guy regard him indulgently. Hereafter, he gave him small tasks for him to do.

"Shouldn't you be serving your own master?" Guy inquired sternly one day.

"Oh no, he's abed. He doesn't need me. Anyway, he would find me if he did," Edwin replied.

Guy frowned upon such a lax attitude. Goodness, imagining himself at sixteen opting for the Sheriff to come and find him when he needed _him_! It sent a shiver up his spine to think of the consequences. But Guy wasn't about to voice his doubts, and was pleased for Edwin's companionship.

The boy twittered about his life, his parent, who he was missing, as he was serving his uncle, the Count of Provence, and now the Crusades had come and he'd seen the wonderful preparation and he had prayed to the Virgin to in Chartres Cathedral to protect him and his family whilst he was away.

But now he was to part of history and take part in the wonderful Crusades, but his master wasn't that kind to him, though he was grateful to him, he wished he would be knighted soon and then he could take a wife and go back home to Camiéres, and hunt in his forests, buy his own hauberk, and enter tournament and, of course, be fabulously wealthy.

Edwin was desperate to succeed and prove himself in the Holy Land, but importantly to go home again.

Thinking about Edwin Guy decided to speak.

"Why do you wish for more work? This is your free time - In the Holy Land you won't be resting…." the suggestion of death hung in the air.

Edwin could give no answer. His silence on the matter only confirmed what he thought, and Guy hoped that Edwin wouldn't become just another gravestone. Lord knows why but he felt an affinity with the boy.

Guy was double Edwin's age, anyone would imagine he regarded the boy as a son. Indeed, it was possible that Guy did have offspring of Edwin's age already. But, in truth Guy felt closer to Edwin than he would admit. Perhaps it was that because Guy had not grown up, internally he still was an injured sixteen year old boy, desperate for friendship, just like Edwin, maybe more than Edwin, as he'd already mentioned siblings and parents.

"Will I polish your gaiters, my Lord?" Edwin asked eagerly. He was eager to be of serve and wanted Guy to like him.

"No," Guy said coyly. "I'll do them myself," Guy said pensively.

Guy had not got so arrogant to imagine that Edwin would be here forever, it wasn't fair to use him, and he often cleaned his own equipment. Force of habit; and Guy was precious about his equipment, it had been so long in the earning. He didn't even trust his servants to do it properly.

Then a brisk knock on his cabin startled Guy, saving him from potentially becoming sentimental about the boy.

And at once the magnificently attired Count of Provence had opened the door and appeared in the middle of the cabin.

"Would you mind if I cut in?" he asked.

Guy and Edwin both looked up guiltily; they'd been playing cards and drinking. Nothing to be ashamed of, but they couldn't but feel a little embarrassed to have been caught.

The Count stood waiting for some movement. His fur cloak and golden rings sparkling, he cut a dashing figure. No wonder was it, with not a little jealousy that the Count had decided to pull his nephew up for his neglect, when he had been replaced in preference of this man.

"Edwin, go back to my room. Go, and prepare my cabin for dinner. I will speak to you later."

With Edwin gone the noble Count sat down and looked at Guy. Why the boy had formed an attachment here the Count could not understand. The poor knight in front of him, cut a pathetic figure. Well defined, though likely an alcoholic; wine bottles and mugs pervaded the small cabin. What was it with these English?

The Count reflected, that as a nation they always seemed to be drinking, with abandon. Perhaps it was something to do with the climate and depressing dark hard life which made them take to drink to compensate for unhappiness, and replacing it with the illusion of happiness, by means of getting stone drunk. The English were just uncivilised.

The count paused, placing his hands either side of the bed, to stop himself from swaying, and said in a quiet voice,

"I'll ask you get your own boy to wait on you, it's rather rude to borrow without permission."

The man was arrogant, and reminded him ever so slightly of the Sheriff in his way of finding humour in serious situations.

"Edwin is in my service. Thank God! and let's keep it that way. I don't wish to have to speak to you again. You understand, oui?"

Though the Count was completely in the right, and Guy bowed his head in compliance to the Count's words.

"I never asked him to serve me," Guy said sullenly, a bit like a child who knows his toy are being confiscated when he does not think it justly deserved.

Guy couldn't help but be annoyed with Edwin, if only he had kept up his attention to his master, this separation didn't have to occur. He was being made to look bad because of Edwin's poor time management.

The Count upbraided him with an incredulous look. His eyes daring to suggest and say, 'so you were not capable of preventing a boy of sixteen from doing your menial tasks?'

Hard luck all round.

Edwin appeared on deck the next day with puffy eyes and a black eye, ordered to keep his distance: Guy to be ignored. Similarly, Guy followed suit and ignored Edwin.

……………….

With the matter settled their ship glided through the Iberian peninsular making good time. The slow moving vessel steadfastly brought everyone gradually nearer to the Holy Land, as promised. After thirty two days onboard land was sighted. Guy thoughts now turned seriously to the practicalities of his arrival.

The Sheriff had told him that _someone_ was going to meet him in Acre port. Then he supposed, they whoever 'they' were would know about his mission and help him.

Saracens, no doubt; the place was full of them, and it would be unlikely that any Englishmen were going to aid him. The only Englishmen in the Holy Land were in the King's army, loyal to him and their Crusade. Just like the knights on the ship. Guy wouldn't admit he was nervous.

Out on the horizon domed buildings were emerging, palm trees and coloured stones sprang up to the amazement of everyone. Most onboard had at best only travelled into a neighbouring country, nothing like this had any of the provincial knights ever seen. It was if they were arriving in some tropical fantasy land, warmed by the sun and the grace of God. Imaginations were sparked.

Docking just before sunset, Guy only received an apologetic look from Edwin, as they were parted, both going in opposite directions, never to meet again. Whatever friendship that had existed was snuffed out.

Guy couldn't help but feel a little saddened at this departure, why was pleasure and contentment always out of reach? Brushing self-pity aside, finally on dry land, Guy was in Acre.

He had arrived, and miraculously the mysterious people he imagined meeting, did meet him. 'They' were heavily cloaked and turbaned, despite the heat, and just looking at them made Guy want to break into a sweat, not that his own clothes didn't already see that he did.

They spoke little English, but he caught the names of 'Richard' and John; 'Yahya' and assumed they had to be the right people. 'They' introduced themselves as Rajiya, Imad and Hayat. Being with these foreign strangers in a hostile land Guy wasn't totally at his ease.

They could easily slit his throat but he they more they talked the less suspicious and on edge Guy was, for fellow co-conspirators they seemed worthy and genuine.

His guides took him along sandy passages and behind a farmhouse to what Guy supposed might be their temporary camp. Though Guy didn't understand a word of what they were saying he comprehended their diffidence. They were trying to be respectful, showing the way, attempting conversation which was something he was not used to.

Disappearing down a dirty back street, the next second Guy found himself in a walled courtyard garden, with a fountains and tapestries. This place was like a treasure trove, full of hidden treasures. Hayat made it clear that this was his house and he should make himself at home.

Jerusalem from what he had seen came across as exotic and wonderful ornate. Guy was not disappointed to be in such a city, Nottingham in comparison was positively shabby.

Now seated on cushions in the house upstairs his hosts called servants to make ready to bring food and refreshments Guy was ready to call them perfectly gracious.

Fruit and bread and wine were brought in by heavily veiled women with dark skin. They were wearing long jewelled earrings and bracelets, and scent of Jasmin and cinnamon spice pervaded the air. After a very relaxing couple of hours in the tented room, Guy was well satisfied.

They were treating him as an English Lord that much was clear, which was funny because despite his title Guy was never treated as man of rank, and yet here amongst his religious 'enemies' he was being treated exceptionally well, refreshingly so.

So much so, that when the one in the dark blue turban curiously began pulling up his left sleeve, and made to start painting his arm. He didn't refuse or argue; for one Guy didn't want them to turn against him. All his companions showed him that they had the tattoo which reassured him, and Guy decided it couldn't be a bad thing, especially when it was obviously meant as an honour.

Guy rather liked the idea of being included, and the tattoo looked manly. On the down side it was one more thing to hide from the Sheriff, if he saw it would probably only receive ridicule.

Though more importantly after Guy had been tattooed he and his hosts somehow, aided by hand actions and nodding, came to the conclusion that without reason to delay, that very night was the right time to stalk into the English Camp, and go for King Richard.

Guy was dressed by his hosted in Saracen clothing for his disguise and provided him with a black turban. All was to do was to wait until the evening was more advanced, and then a few hour later, accompanied by Rajiya and Imad they set off once more across the City, though this time to the desert, and this time with real purpose.

After only twenty minutes of silent running in the desert, the camp of which there could be no mistaking came into sight. Guy had never seen so many English flags in one place before in his life. In the distance Guy could even pinpoint his sovereign's tent, his destination because of the large flag on top of it depicting the Lamb of God. It just had to be the epitome of nobility and kingship, marking the camp also as stalwartly Christian. No wonder the Muslims wanted them out.

Again seizing the moment Guy accompanied by Rajiya and Imad continued towards the King's tent, their curved blades outstretched. Most unfortunately the sentry at the entrance to the camp spotted them the men on watch could be ruinous so Rajiya and Imad ran to engage them, leaving the way open for Guy to complete the mission.

However the faithful sentry of two were in no mood to be overpowered tonight, they shouted for help. The King's guards would surely be on the scene soon, as the clash of metal on metal or the shouting woke men from their beds. Guy was tense, the element of surprise had been lost and a frantic chase ensued, he wouldn't have much time.

As if on cue one of the English watch flung his broad sword at him, reaffirming the danger, but it missed by a fifty meters and plunged into the sand.

The two Saracens who accompanied now battled fiercely, slaying men as they could giving Guy the opportunity to turn. He ran madly towards the King's tent, as fast as was possible in the deep sinking sand as more Crusaders joined the fight, and Guy stumbled to reach the King's tent, narrowly missing an arrow that whipped inches in front of him, but there was no time to dwell.

With his heart racing Guy tore back the heavy curtains that blocked his path, and determinedly went up to the dark sleeping figure of Richard the Lionheart who was before him.

He had no love for his monarch and would feel no more guilt for killing him than any other ordinary man. Guy poised his sword over his head, it would be quick. But then suddenly from out of nowhere a Crusader had intercepted his blow with his sword.

Guy turned quickly in order to regain the upper hand. Endeavouring to push the Crusader back so he could complete his task; the King still lay mere inches behind him, he could still succeed.

However, the Crusader evidently intended to continue fighting with him. His opponent managed to swing his sword in a defensive sweep throwing Guy out of the tent.

Both men were fighting to kill. Sharp stabs, all parried, and brute strength matched determination. One fighting for survival, the other for retribution.

Though the fight lasted less than a minute, it felt like an eternity. Loosing himself for a second Guy unguarded for a split second allowed his opponents sword to come down hard slashing his forearm, not seriously wounding merely slicing his sleeve, exposing his tattoo.

Thinking that he'd seriously injured the Saracen, hearing Guy's sharp hiss of pain, Robin relaxed his arm for a second, peering at the devilish mark on the Saracen's arm.

Guy, provided with a weakness to exploit had his opportunity, and plunged deep his sword, into Robin of Locksley's side; for Guy recognised who the Crusaders as he looked at his pained face. Guy drew his sword with satisfaction, and ran away, luckily with his own life. His companions had not been so lucky.

He was very eager to get away; the camp at large would no doubt be emerging because of their noisy skirmish. If he was caught the most he could hope for was a traitor's death; hung, drawn and quartered.

The mission to kill the King had failed but Guy was truly indifferent to Richard's fate. Back in safety of Hayat's house Guy knew, no doubt that this botched attempt had now rendered it too risky to try again within the next few days, and he only had a few days before he had to travel home, if he was to be back in Nottingham within three months.

Who's fault was it, who could he blame? Guy didn't really know; their strategy had been simple, and it so easily could it have worked…

Damn, the Sheriff wasn't going to be pleased with him, but he had to look on the bright side a man who he'd always detested was virtually dead … if Robin of Locksley died of his wound, and it had looked fatal; then the Locksley estate would his unquestionably his.

Marian also would never have to choose between them, if he were to live. The fact that Marian had been engaged to Robin had never sat easy with him, the easy charm could prove fatal. But there was no need to worry about him.

So, it was with a surprisingly cheerful mood that without delay Guy boarded the homeward bound vessel the next morning. It wouldn't do to linger in Jerusalem, not when King Richard was meeting out fierce reprisals on doubtful characters after the attempt on his life.

Thus, to Nottingham it was.

However, little did Guy he know that Robin, was already getting treatment for his wound, and King Richard was sending him home to recover, out of gratitude for saving his life to serve him back in Nottingham. Or that Robin was already being prepared to be posted on the _next boat_ home to England the very next morning.

Guy would have a one day head start, but would one day be enough to secure Marian's heart, before the inevitable pressure Robin of Locksley would no doubt reapply?

..

R&R


	29. Chapter 29

Well this is sad – my last chapter of "Grow up, Gisborne". So I've packed loads of fun stuff i.e. Lots of plot points in this chapter get elaborated in the first series. I do hope you've enjoyed this. Was it cannon for you? Love to hear your thoughts!

Important: at the end of this chapter Robin arrives the very next day duh! duh! duh! I hope all the ends are tied, and you know where you are in the whole RH timeline. Enjoy the last chapter!

Chapter 29

Back in Nottingham:

"Sun turn your head did it?" the Sheriff exclaimed sarcastically.

Guy didn't suppose that the Sheriff would take the news very well. In this he was a feeling a little guilty, he _had_ failed out in the Holy Land and a lot of effort _had _been wasted. Guy couldn't really blame the Sheriff for his attitude.

Once Guy had fully recounted his expedition, and its outcome, it was not pretty.

"Guy you cunt! Hell, can't you do anything right!?"

Guy was so used these kinds of remarks that he ceased to flinch now… much.

True, the insult did nothing for his self-esteem but he didn't protest, and importantly the Sheriff's words had failed to truly hit their intended mark, as Guy mostly subscribed to the Sheriff's view. In the cold light of day it seemed ridiculous that he could have failed in something so straightforward.

Rolling his eyes expressively the Sheriff spat,

"Oh, there are some men in the dungeons who need torturing. Go! and don't fail me in that."

The Sheriff was keen for Guy to start repaying his debt immediately. The Sheriff's annoyance and frustration were so very raw that he knew it was better for him to send Guy out of sight, away to do something useful, for a change, otherwise he might just murder him.

"What for?" Guy asked, in reference to the torture.

"What for? _What for_!" The Sheriff screeched. Gisborne was deliberately trying his patience for sure.

"They're peasants; there's no state secrets I need teased from them! Just go and do it before I give you _what for_! …and if you don't do it properly I'll beat this sheer incompetence out of you!"

Guy breathed a long sigh, the Sheriff not being able to bear his presence was sort of a good thing, he didn't have to stay by his side, as was usually the custom.

The admonishing, though severe, had been quick, and apart from the contents of the Sheriff's desk being upset in order to chuck things at him earlier on, nothing seriously painful had happen.

Their encounter merely left Guy with a huge weight on his shoulders.

……………….

Following Guy to the dungeons, anyone would think that Guy's compliance with his master's orders was nigh the point of slavishness; today he would be turning his hand to torture. It was simple as that. And that going along to inflict cruel punishment presently, maybe resulted from his own sadistic nature.

But the truth was, that because of his submissiveness in the face of his own punishment, at the hands of the Sheriff and so used to suffering that Guy could stay passive in the face of others 'suffering'.

Things had to be kept in proportion, if what happened to him was acceptable, then, virtually everything could be justified on a prisoner because they had actually done something wrong. What had he done wrong?

Thus Guy could deal with men being torturing in the dungeons under his nose or by his hand virtually emotionlessly.

Drawing back to reality to look down at the haunted faces in the cells, he was confronted with over a dozen prisoners. And that, Guy could help reflecting, was an awful lot of people to have locked up at one time. The Sheriff had evidently kept himself very busy whilst he'd been away

But the Sheriff couldn't expect him to torture them _all_. So, he picked out five of the most criminal looking ones from the cells and handed them over to the gaolers, to soft up.

Still, Guy didn't always have the stomach for 'proper' torture, and he waited in the adjoining private cell whilst the gaoler did their work. Guy knew that two prisoners were on the rack; knowing this even though he was not in the same room, because the scream produced by this punishment was unique as it was grizzly. The screams of toenails and teeth being pulled, came next; their screams piercing the air, bouncing of the walls, as if searching for some glass to shatter.

Guy accepted that it was necessary in some cases to get information, but now he wanted to concentrate on wooing Marian, he never wanted to cause real pain unjustly.

Nevertheless he pulled on his special leather gloves with the metal knuckles on in preparation for his work. Guy was thinking that a few well placed punches to the face would convince the Sheriff that he had done his duty.

Even now, after years of dirtying his hands with the Sheriff's work Guy had, what would be considered as, a fairly untarnished heart. True, it was definitely clouded by his sins, but he been manipulated into serving the Sheriff, subtle reminders keeping on in line - His heart never truly was in it when he had to kill.

The Sheriff, with a heart as black as coal, still viewed him as a soft idiot who needed to be toughened up. Whereas, to the people of Nottingham he was the devil incarnate, utterly in league with the Sheriff. Wherever he looked he was on the losing side.

In fact, Guy was misjudged by everyone, and subsequently felt rejected by everyone. In his mind Marian and he were developing an understanding but he couldn't be sure; and She was someone he particularly wanted to win over showing her who he truly was.

He had missed her while he had been away, and had set his mind on visiting her as soon as this was over, anxious to win her affection this very night. After he had beaten those few peasants, of course.

Twenty minutes and he was done.

Guy took the steps up from the dungeons two at a time to get away from the foetid place. The injuries had had inflicted were not that serious; he had nothing to reproach himself with, Guy repeatedly told himself, forcing his words to sink in.

'Violence was essential to respect,' that was the Sheriff's credo; the problem was that now it simply felt _a bit wrong_.

.

.

.

Along the corridor approaching him was a blond haired kitchen maid. At once Guy stopped in front of her blocking her way as she levelled abreast.

She could cleanse him; it's not as if this wasn't allowed.

Good God it had been a long six week homeward voyage. Bloody hell those sailors must have been eunuchs. Sailing was not the life for him.

Surely, if he didn't have this woman he would surrender to insanity, Nottingham, it seemed was once again urging him to fall into the tip of despair.

"Sir?" the girl questioned.

Guy mouthed to her to follow him.

Granted she wasn't as pretty as Marian, more earthly and less ethereal. But she had crinkly blonde hair and a simple pleasing face. Courting Marian no doubt would continue to be a slow and tiring business. He needed a release from everything, and it probably wouldn't be very sensible, Guy sensed if he were to turn up at Knigton Hall, not yet sated after a three month period of abstinence.

Guy could guess that Marian would not overlook attempted rape, well meaning nevertheless though it would be.

"What's your name?" Guy said once they were alone in one of the servant's rooms.

"Annie," she said smiling shyly.

"Your very pretty, Annie," Guy said presently leaning into her body.

He let his hand roam wherever he wanted, and nibbled her neck. Guy shocked himself how much he needed this, and then immediately pulled her forcefully onto the bed so she was on to of him. Very soon the deed was done.

Afterwards still lying on the bed, with Annie close to him, stroking her skin and drinking in, not allowing either one of them to leave, selfishly seeking comfort, Guy though about the woman he was with. Annie wasn't stupid but she was naïve and gullible.

She obviously found him attractive and did foolishly mistake his behaviour for genuine love of her. What's more Guy sensed it, but wasn't going to put her straight, there was not need, and how awkward would that be… He was under no obligation to say anything.

He had called out 'Marian' in his climax; if that wasn't enough of a clue for her, Guy couldn't think of what to say or do! Though he did not know that Annie did not begrudge him that, in fact, she took it as further sign to only pity him, confirming that in life Guy was very downtrodden, and he needed her to look after him.

But with Annie Guy wasn't trying to deceive her. It was, what it was. It wasn't as if he had promised to marry her. In fact, he hardly said anything expect the nonsense of a man bathed in afterglow.

Plus it was no trial to let a woman love him. Deluded and one sided though it must be. The situation couldn't work out badly for him. Shit! Guy was suddenly reminded of Marian, God forbid she might possibly think of him in those terms! No. Well, she would come round.

Yes, he had been affectionate and a very gentle lover; whispering sweet nothings in Annie's ear and, not selfishly as one might have thought, taking her, but looking to her enjoyment as well. But that was simply his style right now, and it was the overwhelming desire for love that Guy wanted made him, not only pay for the body of a woman tonight, but for the warmth and love she could offer.

This strategy also benefited him, often Guy found that often the woman proved more willing and open to everything after he had seen to their enjoyment. So much so that word spread amongst the kitchen maids and knowing that he was not simply a ravisher, which his outward reputation portrayed, enabled Guy never to lack a partner from below-stairs.

Guy cuddled up to Annie, and started to suck on her nipples, he knew behaving like a sap.

"Guy, I'm pregnant," Annie said, with much dignity. in a way reminiscent of a mother telling a child of a new addition to the family.

Guy inwardly scoffed, and looked up. Feminine intuition had gone too far with this loony, they had only lain together this once, tonight. How did she know that!? Was Annie saying that she was a mystic, or a witch with powers of foresight?

Guy was not unsensible to a woman's body and knew that it required a missing period for a woman to be sure that she was actually pregnant.

However, keeping these thoughts to himself Guy lunged in for her mouth to kiss her in part to avoid hearing anymore of her nonsense. Roving his tongue inside her mouth and rubbing slowly against her thigh Guy proceeded to seek more comfort.

About half an hour later Guy making to leave, Annie clung to him making him promising all the usual, viz: the baby. Guy supposed her fears, if indeed she were pregnant, were understandable.

So the words came easily… the baby would be provided for, he would install the baby at a nearby Abbey… etc..etc.. Guy was unfazed. He knew that even if she did end up pregnant it need not concern him for the while. He could continued to come to her for what he wanted all through the pregnancy, although it did start Guy thinking in a more general way.

If Annie really did turn out to be pregnant, initially a pregnant kitchen maid was nothing unusual, but once the baby was born, he could not have any bastard of his growing up in the same Castle. He didn't want Marian to find out.

She would probably insist that the baby be _properly_, properly provided for, and secondly it might scare her off knowing how virile he was. The baby would have to be disposed of, but until then he would enjoy Annie's attentions.

Annie was convinced that he was a good man, believing his love for her to be genuine, that he would marry her if he could, and best of all that he cared about her unborn child, which she was sure now resided within her after their expression of love.

"Seth, does that please you? For if it's a boy?" she prompted.

Seth, unborn and already named, sad or what!

Guy gently pushed her to the door, she had had enough encouragement, he couldn't bring himself to shoot her dreams down, or be forced into talking about babies names; did she think he cared about such womanish things!?

He reckoned he would just pay her off, after the babe was born. This had to be the oldest story in the world. Everything would be fine; an improvement on the last _unforgivable_ 'solution', at least.

And at last, with a trifle more persuasion and another soupy smile from Annie, she finally disappeared around the doorframe leaving Guy alone.

Now that he was free: Onwards, and tally ho to see Marian!

……………..

Pulling up after stabling his horse the contrast between Knigton and the Castle dungeons/servants quarters was marked.

Tonight Knigton in general seemed to be the most peaceful and beautiful place in the whole world. Not that the connection with Marian had anything to do with it of course, Knigton village, and it's surrounding houses, and inhabitants here were simply the best.

Yet deep down it was the anticipation of her, Marian, that had prompted Guy to idealize everything. His sentimental and romantic spark was on fire tonight, and much as he didn't want to show it, he knew it would be hard to suppress.

Taking in a large breath on the doorstep Guy eased himself into waiting, the vision of her face was blurred, it was like his life depended on seeing her, to shine into focus his picture of her. Any second now…

The door opened.

Coming from a period of absence, three long months, travelling to and from the Holy Land Guy was startled by Marian's beauty afresh. If possible, Marian had grown in beauty, and she had definitely bloomed; fully coming into her woman's estate while he had been away.

Half baffled drinking her in, as he was wont to do Guy remained on the threshold. The pink beaded dress she was wearing clung to her hips, and Guy was the kind of man to notice these things. He did not need to rethink his admiration for her, or to think twice before reassessing the purpose of his visit.

She was growing impatient, if only he would speak! His silence was annoying, and she was colouring.

"Would you please come in Sir Guy?" Marian said trying not to be flustered.

"Oh yes…" Guy said feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I must say..." he continued with a disturbing warmth in his voice.

"You have something particular you would like to say to me?" she said quickly, and to Guy's annoyance, in a very straight-laced-kind-of-a-tone. Then Marian smiled expectancy, he supposed kindly, in direct contrast with the tone of her comment.

It would have been a struggle to air his feelings anyway, but Guy would have preferred it if she had allowed him say something. He was much struck by her, and one thing Guy did know that it was good manners to compliment a Lady.

Reverting to the original plan for conversation Guy spoke again.

"Marian, would you accompany me to the banquet on Friday?" in what he hoped was a debonair sort of way.

Marian was growing used to his manner, and growing to accept his courtship of her, though she could not bring herself to like him for it. Not only was Guy her alter ego, the Nightwatchman's nemesis, but he was cruel to the point of sadistic, when carrying out the Sheriff's orders.

"Its after the Council of Nobles," he clarified.

"You'll be there with you father, I trust?…and I would…be…honoured if, you… that is. I mean…" Yes, that was the Guy she knew, brooding one minute, the next shocking you and here he was trying to convince her to accept him as the 'hopeless young lover'!

'Well I'm not going to be won over by that pretty show' Marian chided inwardly.

But her father seemed to approve of the match and she couldn't refuse _him_. Maybe she could grow to love Guy… No doubt her father would be organising her dowry very soon, and she didn't want to disappoint her father.

Realistically she knew her future would be as Gisborne's wife, much as though it disturbed her now.

Robin, her true love, she'd nigh on given up hope of ever seeing again. Her first love having opted for the Crusades shortly before her sixteenth birthday, and that was the only thing in Guy's favour; he had been here, unlike her so called fiancé. Guy, as much as she didn't want him, would be, she knew, always at her side.

No longer could she sit back and wait for Robin to appear. Marian was nineteen, and it was time to grow up.

She looked up at Guy to where he was still waiting expectantly for her answer. His eyes were eager, just like a puppy's. Hopeful; even though he had to know that his manner of address had been ridiculously halting.

"Yes," Marian said a trifle gravely.

His face lit up for a second so vividly that it frightened her. It was scary to see Guy this happy even for a second. He took her hand and reverently kissed it, but then lingered, taking her unpreparedness for meekness, Guy, emboldened reached out to stroke her hair.

Marian had been surprised at his unexpected visit, she had heard he was ill, and tried to question him upon his arrival, some minutes ago, but he was evasive, and he hadn't come for a conversation.

Waking from her thoughts by some probing she was shocked to find his right hand around the back of her neck and that Guy was leaning into kiss her. Again, as on previous occasions Guy being _far_ too intimate for her tastes. She slapped his arm away, and stepped back out of reach just in time.

"I will see you on Friday then," she said to him, as a way of forcing him to take his leave.

Guy was very intense, there was something about his presence and as a result Marian found it hard to be with him for more than five minutes without feeling utterly drained. To his credit he apologized and quickly left.

Leaving Guy had a mixed view of their meeting. On the positive side she had promised to come to the Castle in two days time to accompany him to the banquet. It had to mean she was warming to him, or was taking her father's advice seriously, one or the other. On the other hand Guy was tempted to believe that he'd fucked it with the kiss. Damn that botched kiss to Hell!

So, if he could win her affections a little more securely they could still be married before the year was out.

Even so, Guy rode back to Locksley irritated and burning with sexual frustration. They weren't engaged yet so perhaps it was wrong of him to expect more. But it took all of his self-control not to pull her into his arms every time he saw her, especially when she looked right up into his face with her brilliant blue eyes. Ah women!

Marian had been, again, ever so slightly difficult, giving the impression that she was assessing his every word and action, mentally logging them so she could mark up how well he did; and that was stressful.

Her parting glance always seemed to say, 'Oh dear, tries hard but lacks natural skill. I may have to review your claim to be able to stand in my presence'.

No, Marian wasn't as haughty as that, but she was close to it. Oh, Guy thought bitterly, she was that haughty _unless_ she was talking about some poor unfortunate pauper, and then her eyes positively shone with approval.

She had such high expectations, then again over time they might benefit him; if she were to expect the good in him that would be encouraging. Nothing had been expected of him from the Sheriff but murder, stupidity and debauchery. He had lived up to those sinful expectation with Marian he had to believe that it was possible that she could cleanse him with her virtues and high expectations.

Slowly riding to back to Locksley, Guy wanted to go home; he was craving his own bed. That he was almost nodding forward in his saddle, tired as he was, was a trifle extravagant, as he'd spend a good half the evening lying down with Annie!

Earlier still, the Sheriff had set a long hard work schedule before him informing him, exactly how beholden he was and exactly how and why he would be making up for his failure in the Holy Land; by working himself to death. It was only fair Vaizey surmised.

Concluding that despite the appointment of a Master at Arms it looked as if he was going to be allocated most of the man's work. Even this couldn't bring Guy down as it might have done. The love and life of a beautiful woman was still in the offing.

In his bed Guy slept peacefully, or as peacefully as was possible for a man with his history and memories. In other words the Nightmares had decided to let him of the hook. Guy would be loath to admit it but Nightmares did regularly keep him from resting.

Though what Guy did not know was that that would be his last 'peaceful' night in this bed for a long time, because by tomorrow night there would be a new outlaw in the forest. A particular outlaw going by the name of Robin Hood, who would make it his business to complicate his life, and disrupt all his plans.

The fight for Marian's hand would be fierce. Who could know it at this stage, but Robin Hood could potentially spark the start of the end for Guy of Gisborne.

It was the end of the beginning.

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The End

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...Or is it?

For the continued story go and watch Robin Hood series 1 followed by 2. THEN wait in agony for series 3! Ha ha ha.

BertieWooster officially signing off.

I do hope you enjoyed it! x x Commmmmment!


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